


Thorin and the Kitten

by medusasmirror



Series: Tiny Orange [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Confused Dwarves, Gandalf is a Troll, Kili messed up, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, Thorin is so done, disgusting cuteness, kitten attacks, playing with string
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-07-18 04:21:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7299388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/medusasmirror/pseuds/medusasmirror
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin has finally arrived at Bag End and is greeted by a tiny orange kitten frantically licking Dwalin's head. It seems that this adventure won't be going quite like he planned</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meetings

Thorin was prepared for many things when he finally stood inside the home of his ostensible burglar, but the sight of Dwalin, Dwalin, with a small orange kitten frantically grooming his bald head was not one of them. 

“Ah, Dwalin?” He stuttered. He had meant to make a cutting remark about how difficult it had been to find the hobbit hole, but the words were just gone.

“Shut it,” the taller dwarf growled, turning around and leaving Thorin gaping at his back. 

The gently bobbing orange tail hanging down over Dwalin’s remaining hair nearly sent Thorin into convulsions. He managed to choke back his laughter and was rewarded with the rusty sound of the kitten purring as it continued its self-appointed task. The exiled king found his spirits rising far above the gloom he had come into the house with. 

He glanced around and noticed that the hobbit hole seemed well appointed. The wood paneling and floors were gleaming with recent applications of beeswax and lemon oil if his nose did not betray him. There was an untidy pile of weapons by the door, cloaks hung on pegs along the wall, and a lovely wooden box sat next to them, although it had been defaced with a few scrapings of mud. The mud didn’t seem to fit in with the care taken in the rest of the foyer. He sighed, suspecting that one of his company had been responsible.

He had hoped to come from a position of strength once he began negotiations with the hobbit Gandalf had produced. Now he was far later than the rest of the company and was already going going to be behind foot due to the desecration of what looked like a treasured heirloom. At least the contract Balin had drawn up would be airtight. If he could only get the damned hobbit to sign the thing. 

Speaking of which, even with twelve other dwarrow in the house already, he would have expected his host to greet him by now. 

“Where is the burglar?” he asked Balin who had come to stand at his side. 

“Ah, yes...” Balin was uncharacteristically evasive about that.

“Balin,” Thorin started.

“You should eat something,” the older dwarf interrupted him. 

“Eat?” 

“Yes. Eat something. You’re dreadfully late, you know.”

That reminded Thorin, “Yes, I thought Gandalf said this place was easy to find. I got lost twice on the way here.”

“That’s another thing you can talk to the wizard about then,” Balin said before leading the way deeper into the hobbit hole. 

“Gandalf!” Thorin called as he passed into a comfortable looking room that was rather over-stuffed with dwarrow. “Where is this burglar you promised us?” is it not enough that his land was difficult to navigate, but now he must snub me in his own home?”

“Thorin Oakenshield, let me welcome you to the Shire and introduce you to my burglar.” Thorin was confused when the wizard walked over to Dwalin. Was the hobbit hiding behind his friend?

The bald dwarf squawked a bit as Gandalf plucked the tiny orange kitten from his shoulders. The cat resisted this and dragged several strands of Dwalin’s hair in his claws. The little creature yowled as though the istari was horribly abusing him rather than gently lifting him into Thorin’s arms. 

Automatically, he shifted to cradle the small ball of ginger fluff against his chest. He didn’t have time for a pet, but he had always had a soft spot for animals. The kitten seemed to sense that he was safe because it quieted down and started to purr, kneading its little claws into his coat. Thorin scratched behind its ears and looked back up at the wizard. 

“Is this a joke?” he asked, flatly. 

“No, Master Oakenshild. That is supposed to be a hobbit. However, since your nephew decided to experiment with things that have nothing to do with him.”

Thorin stopped scratching and looked down at the cat. The kitten tilted its head back and blinked its bright green eyes at him. “Mrow?” it inquired, and reached a paw out to pat at his arm. 

“This,” he hefted the cat up a bit, “is a hobbit?” 

“This morning, that cat was Bilbo Baggins, gentlehobbit and owner of this fine smial. As you can see, after Prince Kili’s ill-advised mucking about with my staff, he is now a small cat.” The wizard glared down at Thorin. 

“Kili did this,” the exiled king stated flatly. “Kili. My nephew. Turned the hobbit into a kitten. And he is where now?” 

“Ah, well irak’adad, Tharkun has him locked into one of Master Bilbo’s bedrooms.” 

Fili must be desperate to sooth him if he was using khuzdul in mixed company. Gandalf probably knew more of their language than Fili did, but the hobbit didn’t. Although, his sister-son might assume that the hobbit-kitten couldn’t understand them. 

“And have you administered any other punishment to my sister-son?” Torin asked.

“No, Master Oakenshield. I simply wanted him out of trouble for a quarter hour. It was also much safer for him to be behind closed doors.”

Thorin simply raised one eyebrow and waited for someone to clarify what possible danger could threaten his nephew in this cozy hobbit hole. 

“The wee hobbit took exception to Prince Kili’s part in his transformation,” Oin shouted. Oin always shouted since it added to his pretense of being mostly deaf. 

“What could a kitten do to a dwarf?” Thorin asked incredulously. Dwarf skin was far too tough for kitten claws to penetrate. 

“Kili tried to cuddle him after the incident,” Fili said reluctantly. Thorin kept looking at him. 

“And then he tried to nuzzle Mr. Baggins’ belly. And Mr. Baggins tried to scratch his eyes out.”

Thorin looked incredulously down at the ball of fluff in his arms. “He tried to scratch out Kili’s eyes?”

“I don’t know that our host actually intended to do any permanent damage,” Dori said from his place at the table. “But you could hardly blame him for taking a swipe at the lad. Nuzzling his belly indeed!” The white haired dwarf sniffed and went back to fussing with Ori’s hair. 

Thorin turned to find somewhere to put the kitten-burglar. It really wasn’t appropriate for him to be cuddling a member of his company, prospective or not. However, it seemed like every surface was covered in dwarrow. He had never thought of his kin as being too bulky until he was faced with the horror of setting a tiny orange kitten down amid twenty-four metal capped boots. 

“I can take him,” Bofer offered, seeing his king’s predicament. 

Thorin reluctantly handed the cat over, dusting the clinging orange fur off his coat as best he could. “Fili,” he ordered. “Go get your brother. There is much to discuss.”

Once the older prince had headed down the hall Thorin turned to Gandalf. “Is this permanent?”

“That is difficult to say,” the wizard replied, sipping from a cup of win Thorin hadn’t seen him pour. 

“Surely you know how long your own spell will last!”

“But it wasn’t a spell, Master Oakenshield. It was an accident and there is no way to predict the exact outcome. Mister Baggins may be back to himself by morning or not until I can take him to see another wizard. Radagast the Brown, I think.” The wizard was talking more to himself than Thorin now. 

“That’s all well and good,” Thorin interrupted his reverie. “But I am now without a burglar and back to an unlucky number in my company.”

“Without a burglar? Without a burglar? My dear King Under the Mountain, you have a burglar. You asked me to find one.” (Thorin honestly couldn’t remember asking Gandalf anything of the sort.) “And I have found you a burglar.” 

The wizard made a sweeping gesture to where the kitten-burglar was dancing around on his hind legs chasing a bit of yarn Boffer had gotten from Ori. “Really? And what is he going to do? Purr the dragon to death?”

“Hobbits have more to offer than you, or even they know.”

Gandalf refused to speak again after that, simply sitting back and sipping his wine. Thorin would have pressed forward, but thudding boots told him that his sister-sons were returning. He turned and prepared to discuss Kili’s ill-advised actions in a calm and rational manner. 

“Uncle, I didn’t mean-” the younger prince started as he skidded into the room. 

Thorin was opening his mouth to speak when an unearthly yowl sounded from behind him. He spun, expecting some sort of mountain lion to have invaded the smial, but it was, of course, Mister Baggins, who had swelled up to three times his previous size. His tail was puffed up and he was taking short, mincing steps forward. The growl that was emanating from the tiny animal would have put a warg to shame. 

Kili yelped and jumped behind his brother. “Mister Boggins, I really am sorry!” he babbled. “I had no idea-” The prince’s apology was cut short as the kitten lunged for him. The next few minutes were a blur of running, crashing, hissing, and shouting. 

Finally, Thorin had had enough. “SHAZARA!” he shouted and everyone froze.

Kili was clinging to Dwalin as though the older dwarf was a tree. Bilbo was stretched up obviously intending to climb Dwalin’s leg in pursuit of his prey. Fili was bent over, ready to grab the kitten-hobbit with his hands wrapped in some white netting that didn’t look very protective. The other dwarrow were sprawled, standing, or running according to their natures. All except Ori, who had very sensibly, Thorin thought, taken refuge on top of the table. 

Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose. This was meant to be the start of a solemn undertaking, but it was shaping up to be more of a traveling comedy show. “Fili, put back whatever it is you have wrapped around your hands. Kili, get off Dwalin. If the cat savages you it is only what you deserve. Nori, put Master Baggins’ spoons back on the table. Balin, for the love of Mahal, stop laughing. And Ori, lad, I think it’s safe to come down now.”

“Are you ready to discuss our endevour now?” Gandalf asked from his armchair. 

“No master wizard, I am ready to have a drink. Bomber, I know you’ve found the ale by now,” he said, turning away from the useless istari. Before anything else, he was going to have a large drink. Maybe two. Then he would start trying to reign in this mess. 

“Mrow?” a small noise from beside his boot stopped him before he could stride off after Bomber. He glanced down and into the inquiring face of the kitten. 

“Yes, Master Baggins?”

“Prow!” the cat said decisively and then swarmed up his leg, sinking tiny, needle-like claws into fabric and skin until he could perch on Thorin’s shoulder. 

“You could have gotten to Kili anytime you wanted, couldn’t you?” 

“Purrrrrr.” The cat squeezed his eyes shut in what Thorin could only interpret as a smug fashion. 

“Wonderful,” he said, and passenger in tow, went to find the ale.


	2. Chapter 2 - The Next Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continued fallout of Kili's mistake. Really, Thorin can't be expected to lead a quest under these conditions. Also, what is up with the tiny orange kitten and Dwalin's head?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has left kudos and comments! It means so much to me!
> 
> The next chapter should take us up through the Trolls. Anything anyone is especially hoping to see Kitten-Bilbo tackle?

The rest of the night passed in something of a blur for Thorin. He knew he had told the others that the council refused to help them. Gandalf had produced a key and map. Thorin had words to say to the wizard about those when the opportunity presented itself. Ori had declared his readiness to fight the dragon. Kili asked Gandalf how many dragons he had faced. But none of it felt real. It was as though Thorin were watching from outside himself.

He came back to himself to find that he was singing in front of a low fire. The Bilbo-kitten was curled around his shoulders, tiny nose nestled behind Thorin’s ear. The small animal’s purring added another layer to the thrumming notes of the dwarrows’ song. He didn’t know why, but the small amount of extra warmth seemed to chase away some of the demons that had ridden him since Smaug’s attack. Thorin felt that he could actually stand in this moment with his family and Company instead of always pressing forward toward Erebor. 

As their host was still incapable of taking over, Gandalf showed them to the available guest rooms. He tried to offer Thorin the master bedroom, but the dwarf declined. Despite the fact that the Hobbit-kitten was still riding his shoulder, he didn’t feel comfortable sleeping in the tiny being’s bed without explicit permission. Instead, he ended up in the second largest guest room with his nephews. The Bilbo-kitten growled at Kili, but didn’t stir himself off his perch on Thorin’s shoulders. 

“Here.” Fili tossed some of the blankets to his brother.

“What?” 

Thorin smirked at the sight of his nephew with blankets draped over his head and shoulders.

“I thought you’d want some blankets, but if you don’t we’ll keep them.” Fili reached forward as though to take the blankets back.

Thorin sat down and lifted the kitten off his shoulder and onto the pillow. Bilbo grumbled a bit, but turned around a few times before curling up and wrapping his ginger tail around his nose. Kitten accounted for, Thorin bent over to start unbuckling his boots. 

“But I’m sleeping on the bed with you,” whined Kili.

“I doubt our host would agree with that,” said Fili with a smirk.

“What?” Kili moved toward the bed. “He doesn’t mind.”

Bilbo disabused him of this plan by lifting his head gently and hissing. Kili quickly backed away clutching the blankets in front of him. Fili laughed as he pulled off his own boots. Thorin started to remove pieces of his armor and piled it on the floor beside the bed. He raised an eyebrow at his nephew’s incredulous expression.

“It’s safe enough here.”

Fili stared at him another minute before shrugging and shedding some of his own armor and weapons before tumbling into the bed. As soon as Thorin put his head on the pillow the kitten got up and stomped across his chest to nestle up against his short beard. The dwarf fell asleep to the sound of purring mixed in with his nephew’s snores. 

Thorin woke up the next morning to something batting at his nose. “What?” he asked blurrily. He brushed his hand over his nose and encountered a silky paw, which reached out and tapped him again. 

This time he opened his eyes and found himself face to face with a small orange kitten. Thorin wrinkled his brow trying to figure out why there was a kitten on his chest. He stared at the kitten who said, “Murp?” and tapped him on the nose again. 

Thorin blinked. Then he blinked again. “Yes?” he asked hesitantly. 

“Mrow!” the tiny animal said, authoritatively. And then it hopped off his chest onto the mattress. From there, he made an ungraceful leap down to the floor and trotted out of the room, tail high and straight as a flag. As Thorin watched the tiny cat rump leave the room everything started to come back to him. The Shire, the hobbit hole, Kili accidentally turning their host into a kitten. 

Which meant, that his host had just woken him up and then left the room. Thorin felt a sinking in his stomach. Had one of the dwarves done something else to either the hobbit or his home? Thorin threw back the quilt and hurriedly stuffed his feet back into his boots. He didn’t take the time to put on his armor again, just fastened enough buckles that his boots wouldn’t fall off and thumped out the door after his four-legged host. 

Hearing noise from the front of the hole where the sitting room was, he stomped that way. He rushed into the room, ready to diffuse any new mischief his nephews had gotten into. He was slightly dumbfounded by what he found. Bilbo was once again perched on Dwalin’s head, giving the tattooed scalp a thorough licking. Thorin stared at his best friend and the kitten that was so fervently washing him. Then, without a word, he turned around and went back to his bedroom to finish getting dressed. 

It wasn’t until he got back to the guestroom that he realized his two nephews were both still asleep and snoring enthusiastically. Thorin scowled. If he was up then they damn well should be up too. This whole thing was their fault. As soon as he had finished donning his armor, he decided to do something about it. 

“Up!” he shouted, clapping his hands. 

He was satisfied when Fili rolled out of bed, landing on his brother with a ‘thump.’ Kili was always hard to wake, but Thorin was certain that having 10 stone of dwarf landing on him should be enough. He didn’t wait to watch them sort themselves out from the tangled pile of blankets that had followed Fili off the bed. “I expect you in the kitchen in ten minutes, dressed and ready to leave. And make sure you clean this room too. We’ve already put our host through enough as it is. There’s no sense in leaving his house a shambles as well.”

It was more like twenty minutes before everyone was assembled in the hobbit’s front room. Bombur had made up a sort of potluck breakfast out of most of the food remaining in the pantry. He had also fashioned several packets of nuts, dried fruit, and seeds that he was handing out to the dwarrow to tuck into their packs. Thorin munched on an egg sandwich while he waited for everyone to ready themselves. 

Ori had managed to distract the hobbit-kitten from his attentions to Dwalin’s head by waving a strip of jerky around for the cat to play with. The tiny orange animal was dancing about on his hind legs as the young dwarf waved the meat above him. Small snags in the lad’s knitted mitts showed that the kitten had almost caught the treat more than once. 

Gandalf came out of the hallway just as everyone else was shouldering their packs. He had not only his own pack, but a second, smaller, leather pack, which he held out to Thorin. “And what is this?”

“These are some of Master Baggins’s things. Obviously, we need to bring them along for when we can remove the spell.”

“We’re not taking a kitten,” Thorin stated firmly. 

“We can hardly leave him here, Master Oakenshield. He has no close family and we can hardly expect his neighbors to understand the situation. No, we are responsible for his predicament and we are going to see him safely past it. And besides, if we don’t bring him along how is he to act as your burglar once he is back to himself, hmm?”

Thorin sputtered, but he had already realized the futility of trying to argue with the grey wizard. “Fine,” he said, snatching the bag out of the old man’s hand. “But you are responsible for him as we travel. I have no mind to babysit a kitten on top of watching out for the rest of this crew.”

“I will certainly do my best for Master Baggins, but cats, like hobbits, are their own creatures. He will settle with whoever he likes and there is very little either of us can do about it.”

“Hmpf,” was all Thorin could think to reply. “Move out!” he called and led the way out of the round green door, carrying the two packs. At the garden gate, he turned back to watch that all of his company followed. As he expected, Gandalf was the last one out. The orange smudge on his shoulder told Thorin that their burglar was indeed planning to accompany them. 

“Go on, Master Oakenshield. I’ll catch you up at the stables. But first, I must make sure Mr. Baggins’s property is secured.”

“Mrow!” agreed the kitten. 

Thorin just shook his head and turned to open the gate. With his heart lifting at the bright day ahead of them, he started to lead his Company on the first steps of their quest. He knew the months ahead would not be easy and, although he tried not to dwell on it, he knew it was doubtful they would all survive through to the end. But for today, in the calm green of the Shire roadway, he felt fate might actually be on their side. 

“Thorin?” asked Balin from behind him. “Where are you going?”

“To the stables, of course. To pick up the ponies,” he called back over his shoulder. Had Balin forgotten the plan already?

“Ah. I thought you might be, but, er, the stables are the other way,” his advisor said, as tactfully as possible. 

“Ah, right. It’s all this green. It confuses the senses.”

“Yes, understandable. Could happen to anyone,” Balin agreed as Thorin abruptly whirled around and stomped back through the company until he was finally headed in the correct direction.


	3. Chapter 3 - Trolls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dwarves find a camp. Gandalf storms off in a huff. And... where did the cat go?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who has left kudos and comments. It really means a ton to me.   
> This chapter is a bit shorter than I was hoping for. I hurt my hand a bit, so typing is slightly painful today. It should be back to normal tomorrow, but I wanted to get this posted. 
> 
> We're (hopefully) moving into our new building at school this week, so hopefully things there will calm down as we all settle into our new space. My new library looks very pretty, but I'm cautious about how functional it is actually going to be.
> 
> Question -would you all rather have Bilbo's perspective laced into this story or as it's own entry in the series

It had been raining for days and Thorin was utterly sick of the smell of wet horse, the taste of wet cram, and the feel of wet cat fur against the back of his neck. The burglar-kitten had taken on look at the lowering clouds and retreated under Thorin’s hood days ago. Any attempt to remove him so Thorin could, for example, fit his own head fully inside the hood, was met with fierce resistance. The creature only vacated his hiding spot for food, necessary functions, and to sleep, at which point he curled up in the middle of Thorin’s bedroll. He couldn’t even persuade the feline to ride in Dwalin’s hood despite his previous preference for the bald dwarf.

With rain dripping off the end of his nose and a quietly grumbling cat making a damp nest in his hair, Thorin was thoroughly done with this quest. “We stop here,” he called as soon as a likely camp loomed up out of the gloom. 

The farmhouse was mostly ruined, but it looked like there were enough intact pieces to allow them all to dry out a bit. At the moment, he could think of nothing grander than dry socks. And possibly something hot to eat. They hadn’t managed to find enough dry wood for a fire even if they had found somewhere out of the rain to light one. But tonight, at least, they could get out of the rain that continued to piss down on them.

Which was why, when the wizard objected to his chosen camp Thorin was not in the mood to hear it. And his suggestion... Elves! Tharkun wanted them to take refuge with the bloody tree-shaggers. The argument was bitter and Thorin only kept from exploding completely due to the fact that every time he gestured too emphatically, the tiny cat under at the back of his neck dug in its claws. 

“Very well then,” Tharkun muttered before storming off. 

“Where are you going?” Thorin heard Ori ask the enraged wizard. 

“I am going to seek council with the only being around that has any sense; myself!” the wizard said before storming off into the dark. 

Thorin walked up behind Ori and clapped a hand on the lad’s shoulder. “Come along,” he said. “It looks like we’ll finally be able to get dry and Tharkun can take his mood out on someone else for a bit.”

The remnants of the farmhouse proved well suited to their needs. Although two of the walls and the roof had fallen down, there had been a bit of a loft that was still intact, offering them shelter from the rain. Quite a few timbers from the house had fallen under the overhang, which gave them dry wood for a fire as well. Thorin was verging on delighted when Bilbo deigned to leave his shoulders and curl up somewhat closer to the blaze than Thorin actually thought wise, but the cat seemed content to wash himself and bask in the heat. 

As everyone puttered about setting up camp, the rain began to ease off until there was only the lightest mist still shrouding the trees outside their camp. “Fili, Kili,” he called. “Picket the ponies out where they can forage a bit. But keep an eye on them. There may be wolves in these woods and we can’t afford to have one of them bolt.”

“Yes, uncle,” Fili said, resigned, but willing to do as his uncle bade him. Kili grumbled a little, sounding surprisingly like the cat, but went along when his brother pulled him back outside. 

Bombur started a rich stew for dinner with the last of the smoked meat they had acquired in the Shire. It would take time for the dried meat to cook back to an edible consistency, but it would be good to have hot food again. Thorin was stretching his coat out over some rubble to dry when Gloin walked up to him. 

“Ori says Tharkun wanted us to meet up with a bunch of tree-shaggers.”

“He did. I declined.” 

“Good. I never did trust those pointy-eared bastards and we don’t want them knowing anything about our business.” Gloin then proceeded to drone on about the perfidy of elves to the point that even Thorin, who had no love for the firstborn of Eru Iluvatar himself could hardly stand it. 

“I know,” he interrupted agreeing to some complaint the other dwarf was detailing. “But we are not bedding down with elves. We are in a dwarrow camp. And soon there will be food and a dry night’s sleep for us all. Should you not find somewhere to dry your bedding before it is time to use it?” Thorin was sure that only the prospect of another night in a damp bedroll had stopped the banker from continuing his tirade. 

“That was almost diplomatic,” Balin said once Gloin had left him. 

“I did pay attention to some of your lessons.”

“This is the first I’ve seen of it,” Balin teased him. Thorin would have answered back, but a small orange blur raced past him and out into the night. 

“Bilbo?” he called, wondering what had gotten into the cat. 

“Must have seen a squirrel,” Dwalin said, draping his bedroll over a small pile of debris. 

“He’s never gone chasing after them before,” Thorin said, half worried. The hobbit-kitten had always been fairly docile unless Kili or rain were involved. He’d never shown any inclination to go exploring the wilderness on his own. 

“He’ll be back when the food is ready. I’ve never seen anything that small with such an appetite,” his friend said carelessly. Thorin nodded agreement, but he couldn’t help worrying. There were hundreds of things that would threaten a cat that a dwarf wouldn’t even think twice about. Owls, badgers, creeks, snares someone set to catch rabbits...

“You’re fretting,” Dwalin said, thumping him hard on the back. “You’re worrying over the hobbit as though he were your own babe.”

“I am not fretting,” Thorin growled. “I simply don’t want to explain to Tharkun that I let his burglar get eaten by something while I sat idly by waiting for the stew to finish cooking.”

“You’ve gotten attached to the wee thing,” his friend said accusingly. 

“Don’t be an ass,” Thorin said, shaking off the heavy arm over his shoulders. “And if you want to talk about attachment, should we discuss your recent interest in literature?” 

Dwalin spluttered and glanced around to make sure none of the Ri’s were in earshot. Thorin had kept track of the others and knew it was safe to tease his friend about his affection for the company’s scribe without worrying that Dori would try to break his legs over it. “I never knew you were looking for someone so small. You always seemed to care more about big-” 

He laughed as Dwalin socked him hard in the gut, cutting off his teasing. The two scuffled for a bit, before they picked up their weapons and turned their skirmish into an actual sparring session. He and Dwalin had fought each other enough to feel safe going much faster and harder than either would do with another opponent in a friendly match. By the time they finally wound down, supper was ready and some of the company were already eating. 

Thorin collapsed onto a rock and gratefully accepted a bowl of stew from Balin. He noticed that Ori seemed to be finishing his up. “Ori, would you take some out to Fili and Kili? Then you and Bofur can relieve them for a while. We’ll bring the ponies closer in before we sleep, so you won’t be stuck out there all night.”

Ori nodded and accepted two more bowls from Bombur. “I’ll carry one of those, lad,” Bofur said, taking a bowl away from the scribe and neatly preempting Dwalin who had been about to offer. Thorin ate in silence for a while, enjoying the stew. Bomber had done a good job with the ingredients he’d had to work with. 

“If Master Cat doesn’t come back soon, he’ll get cold leftovers for his supper,” Bombur said as he dished up bowls for Dwalin and Nori who had just wandered in from outside. Torin felt a tightening in his gut. 

“He isn’t back yet?” he asked, setting his spoon back into the bowl. 

“Haven’t seen hide nor hair of him since he went streaking out over an hour ago,” the cook said. 

“I didn’t think he’d ever miss supper,” Dori said. “He’s quicker off the mark at a meal than Bombur is.”

“Tharkun says hobbits eat more than we do,” Bifur growled out from where he sat carving something on the far side of the fire. “Maybe that carried over into his new form?”

“Whether it did or not, it’s worrying that he’s not here now. Did any of you see which way he went when he left here?” Thorin asked, setting his bowl aside entirely. He couldn’t eat another mouthful until he knew where the burglar was. 

“It looked to me like he was headed for the clearing where the boys have the ponies staked out,” Nori said. “Probably going to torment Kili some more.”

“If he’s there, Bofur and Ori will bring him back,” Balin said, complacently. Thorin couldn’t share his advisor’s calm, but he wasn’t going to make himself ridiculous by chasing around the dark woods looking for a cat.

Although, it couldn’t hurt to just go out and look, he thought. But before he could make up his mind one way or the other, Ori came rushing back up to the house. 

“Trolls! In the woods! They got two of the ponies,” he gasped out, leaning over a bit to try to catch his breath.

“Ori!” Dori shoved past Thorin to get to his youngest brother. As he started checking the younger dwarf over for injuries, the others started to grab their weapons. 

“Fili and Kili?” Thorin asked anxiously. 

“In the woods scouting. Bofur is keeping an eye on them,” Ori told him, batting Dori’s hands away. 

“At least someone is,” Dwalin muttered from beside Thorin’s shoulder. “How many trolls were there, lad?”

“Three that I saw,” Ori told him. “They had the ponies in a pen off to the side of their camp.”

“Think we can get them back?” Thorin asked his guard. 

“We have to try,” Dwalin confirmed what Thorin already knew. They couldn’t afford to lose several ponies this early into the quest. 

“Move out as quietly as you can,” he told the others. “Ori, can you lead us back to them?” Ori nodded and nervously pulled his slingshot out of his pocket. Thorin looked at the small weapon clutched in his scribe’s knit-covered fist. He made a mental note to make sure the lad got some training in a slightly more impactful weapon once they had some time. 

Trolls, he thought. What were bloody trolls doing this far south? And why did they have to settle on Thorin’s path instead of anywhere else in Arda? Well, Dwalin would be happy at least It had been almost a century since he’d gotten to fight a troll. Thorin pulled his sword out and nodded for Ori to lead the way. It wasn’t until he was slipping between the trees that he suddenly remembered that Bilbo was somewhere in these woods too. With trolls. And he felt his heart start to race even faster. 

“Oh no,” he heard Ori whisper in front of him. Thorin’s eyes shot up to see what had frightened the lad. 

Fili hung upside down from a troll’s fist. He seemed to be covered in some sort of slime. “Put him down!” Bofur shouted from the treeline to their left. 

The troll did put his nephew down. By throwing him straight at Bofur. The two dwarrow went down in a heap. Then Thorin was yelling and running toward the trolls with his sword out. Arrows flew out of the trees in advance of his charge, but they found no purchase in the troll’s leathery skin. Then he was upon them and the next few minutes were filled with the chaos as thirteen dwarrow faced off against the three trolls.


	4. Chapter 4 - Trolls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is taking so long between updates. Life is... yeah.  
> But, I promise, I am still working on it!  
> Thank you so much to everyone who has been leaving comments and kudos! It really means a lot to me.

Chapter 4

In retrospect, Thorin could admit that charging into a clearing occupied by three mountain trolls was not his greatest moment. Mountain trolls were not like orcs. Orcs died when you hit them with a sword the size of the average dwarf. Mountain trolls apparently just kicked you. Quite hard. In the ribs. Mountain trolls, it was worth nothing, were very strong. They were also smart enough to pick up Balin and threaten to rip him apart. 

Of course, Thorin had signaled for everyone to drop their weapons. He wouldn’t risk Balin’s life on a fight they weren’t winning anyway. Although, if he’d realized that it would end with half of them stripped and tied up in sacks while the others rotated on a spit, he might not have been quite so fast to surrender. He looked around from his somewhat limited vantage point near the top of the pile of dwarrow. Everyone seemed to be accounted for between the sacks and the spit. No one looked horribly injured. And their weapons were almost within reach. 

The trolls had just dropped everything into a big pile after they had forced the Company to disrobe. The ugliest one had been impressed at how many knives Fili had had stashed about his person. Fili had not been amused when a troll had called him “the little hedgehog,” but Thorin honestly thought it fit. One of Fili’s knives was precariously perched on one side of pile of weapons. As Thorin looked over the mess, trying to calculate how to tip the knife off so he could reach it, he came to a realization. There was no bow in the pile. No quiver. He whipped his head back around and started counting dwarrow. There were only eleven of them in the clearing. Which mean Kili was still free!

But, Thorin’s heart sank a bit, what could one dwarf do against the three trolls when all twelve of them hadn’t been able to make a dent? His calculation of the odds was interrupted by the trolls starting to argue about how best to cook them. He turned his attention away from the possibilities represented by Kili and back to the matter of getting the knife. Then at least he would have a chance of helping. 

“Why bother cooking them?” one of the trolls was asking. “Let’s just sit on them and squash them into jelly.”

“They should be sauteed and grilled with a sprinkle of sage,” argued another. 

Thorin let the talk wash over him as he tried to inch his way slowly toward the knife. He had to scoot on his belly and he could hear Dwalin snickering even in the midst of a discussion on how to properly season dwarf and whether to eat them with their boots on or not. He was almost halfway across the intervening dirt when he saw something orange out of the corner of his eye. 

“Bilbo,” he whispered. He wanted to shout at the hobbit-cat to run, but he also didn’t want to draw any attention to his presence. The trolls could crush him without even noticing. As he watched, the cat slunk closer to the fire. He seemed to be carrying something in his mouth, but Thorin couldn’t see clearly in the flickering light. Bilbo paused beside a large rock fifteen feet away from the trolls and crouched. 

Thorin strained against the ropes holding his sack shut. If he could just wave the cat off... If he could distract the trolls while Bilbo escaped... While Thorin considered the advisability of catching the trolls’ attention something else distracted the bickering brothers first. An arrow bloomed in the cook’s eye. He shouted and reeled back, flailing out with his ladle. 

It was a brilliant shot. Much like a dragon, the trolls’ hide was too thick for most arrows to penetrate, making the eye one of the only vulnerable points for an archer. But even so, Kili’s bow wasn’t powerful enough to send the arrow deep enough into a troll’s skull to actually kill it. And Thorin didn’t think that blinding the three trolls was the wisest course of action. He and the others would be just as dead if they were crushed by accident than if the trolls ate them. 

But, Thorin noticed that the troll who had been hit was behaving strangely. Instead of rushing off to attack whoever had injured him, he was staggering around, crashing into the other trolls, and seemed to be much more distressed than the injury warranted. One of the others cursed when the wounded troll crashed into him and shoved him back. The cook lurched back and fell hard against the rocky outcropping behind the camp. A loud crack sounded when his head hit a piece of protruding stone. 

The two remaining trolls froze. “You’ve killed him, Tom!” 

“I never did!” shouted the other troll. They seemed to forget about the dwarves as they lumbered over to look at their fallen comrade. 

“He’s dead though,” said the first troll. 

“Well, he’s got an arrow sticking out of his eye, hasn’t he?” the other, Tom apparently, said.”

“Little thing like that wouldn’t have killed old Bert. But you pushed him into a rock!” 

The trolls turned on each other and started trying to kill each other as far as Thorin could make out. At one point, a flailing arm knocked into the spit that Dwalin and the others were tied to and sent it crashing to the ground several feet from the fire. While Thorin was sure the fall hadn’t done Bofur’s ribs any good, at least they were no longer rotating over an open flame. 

He had been so caught up in watching the trolls that when something cold nudged his hand, he nearly screamed. Choking back the cry, he looked down to see Bilbo nudging the handle of a knife against his hand. 

“How did you...” Thorin trailed off, saving the questions for later and set about trying to twist the knife into a useable position. Bilbo helped a little, nudging here and there until Thorin was able to cut through enough of the rope holding him to finally snap the remainder. He made quick work of the ties on his ankles and then, following the kitten, scuttled over to the bulk of his Company and started cutting them loose as well. 

“How-” Balin started to ask, but Thorin shushed him. Behind them, the trolls were still arguing and he didn’t want to draw too much attention lest they put off their fight in favor of re-securing their escaping dinner. Once Balin was free, Thorin handed the knife to him and signed that he should keep cutting the others loose. Bilbo was sneaking back toward the pile of weapons and Thorin started after him. 

But the kitten was too quick and had scaled the haphazard mound before Thorin had crossed half the distance. He “mrowed” imperiously, obviously trying to attract attention. Thorin was momentarily frozen trying to decide between grabbing the obviously insane kitten-hobbit and ducking back into the shadows in the hopes the trolls wouldn’t notice him. Before he could make up his mind, Bilbo yowled at the top of his tiny kitten lungs, and the trolls finally stopped what they were doing to find the cause of the disturbance. 

“What’s that, Bill?” 

“It’s a cat, numbskull.”

“Well, I know it’s a cat,” said Tom with an injured air. “But what’s it doing here? Cats don’t take to us as a rule. And besides, Bert’s allergic.”

“Well that’s hardly a consideration now, is it? Since you went and killed him and all!” Bill said, cocking a fist back to restart the fight. 

Then, from the top of the rocks a thunderous voice called, “Dawn take you all!” and Gandalf appeared. He slammed his staff down on the stone, which split, allowing the rising sun to shine down into the hollow. The two trolls turned at the commotion and Thorin was astonished to see them turning to stone before his very eyes. He’d heard that mountain trolls avoided the light, but never why.

In front of him, Bilbo gave a very satisfied purr. Thorin looked at him incredulously. “You can’t say you planned that!”

The kitten turned and looked at him. Thorin was quite sure he had never received such a judgemental look from a small cat in his life. Dis would have been proud of that look. 

“Of course we planned it, Master Oakenshield,” Gandalf said as he clambered down from his perch. “Bilbo and young Kili were instrumental in keeping the trolls occupied until the sun rose.” Bilbo purred louder.

“Kili!” Thorin cried. “Where is he? Is he safe?” His eyes darted around the clearing, looking for his missing nephew. 

“Here I am Irak-adad!” he heard from a branch nearly overhead. Kili waved before wriggling back to the main trunk and then shimming down to the ground. Thorin rushed to hug him. 

“That was a good shot, but it was dangerous! You know the troll wouldn’t have been killed.”

“Oh, I know. But Bilbo poisoned the arrow,” Kili said blithely. 

“Bilbo what?” Dwalin paused from where he was scooping the kitten up off the pile of weapons. He looked down at the small orange animal in his hand while Thorin stared at his sister-son.

“Bilbo poisoned my arrow. Or, rather, he showed me how.”

“How does a cat show you how to poison an arrow, laddie?” Balin asked.

“He found a plant. And then pawed at me until I picked some of the berries. I was going to eat one, but he bit my hand and made me drop it. Then he grabbed one of the arrows out of my quiver and tried to rub the head onto the berry. I figured out what he wanted from there,” Kili said, as he was walking over to help his brother up.

Dwalin and Thorin both looked at the small cat. Bilbo squeezed his eyes shut and purred while hanging limply from the big warrior’s hands. “Bilbo... poisoned the arrows,” Dwalin repeated. 

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to put strange things in your mouth, young Prince of Durin?” Gandalf boomed as he strode into the clearing. He looked much more imposing now, Thorin thought, than when he was hopping down the rocks like a sort of elongated mountain goat. 

“Not really,” Kili said, without concern. “What was that anyway?”

“Belladonna, one of the more poisonous things you’re likely to find in these woods. And something Bilbo would be intimately familiar with,” Gandalf said portentously.

“Are you saying our hobbit is in the habit of poisoning folk?” Bombur asked as he lumbered toward the pile of their belongings. 

“No, master cook. I’m saying that his mother’s name was Belladonna. They naturally took an interest in the plant she was named for.” Thorin could feel his shoulders relaxing a bit at the innocent explanation. He didn’t like to think of the small kitten as a poisoner. He was too... fluffy to be an assassin. 

“Could you show me more of these berries?” Nori asked Bilbo. Thorin tuned out the ensuing row with Dori.

“Hurry and redress. The trolls could not have traveled during the day. They must have a cave nearby,” Gandalf told them. “And a troll-hoard, while nothing like a dragon-hoard, is still very much worth investigating.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know belladonna doesn't work quite like that, but it's fancy middle earth belladonna. And what do we really know about troll physiology anyway?


	5. Chapter 5: Who Breeds Rabbits Like That?!?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trolls are dead. The dwarrow are not. The must be due for a break, right? Right? Anyone?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who has left kind comments! I'm so appreciative of them.   
> Life has been... yeah.   
> But, I'm still working on this story. It may be a while between updates, but I've found a new writing tool that turns writing into an RPG, so maybe the loot drops will help keep me on track.   
> Hopefully!

One thing Gandalf had not told them about troll hoards was that they reeked. It wasn’t just that they smelled like troll, although that was bad enough. But they also smelled like rotted meat, piss, shit, and something even fouler that Bombur thought was the result of troll cooking.

 

“Are you sure there’s anything here worth the smell?” Thorin asked through an increasingly stuffy nose.

 

“I haven’t any notion what the trolls had stashed in their hoard, Master Dwarf. That is why we are looking.” Gandalf, Thorin noticed, did not seem to be having any trouble with his sensory organs.

 

“Fine,” Thorin growled and stepped further into the little cave. He was stopped abruptly as Dwalin grabbed his arm. “What?”

 

“I’ll go first,” his guard said, thrusting him back. He would have made an imposing figure if not for the kitten riding his shoulder. Thorin was surprised Bilbo could stand the stench. But other than sneezing several times in quick succession, the tiny animal did not seem to have a reaction to the smell at all.

 

Thorin, on the other hand, wrinkled his nose as he followed closely after Dwalin. Dwarf noses were by no means as sensitive as elves’, but nothing could be that big without being somewhat powerful. The reek brought tears to his eyes, but he blinked them aside and strode on in his guard’s wake. Leaf litter and small bones crunched under his boots, and Dwalin occasionally kicked aside a skull. Thorin didn’t look too closely at what kind of skulls they were.

 

The cave wasn’t deep, but the passage was fairly narrow, just enough for the trolls to have squeezed in. “It opens out up ahead,” Dwalin called back.

 

“I thought it might,” the wizard said from just behind Thorin.

 

“Then why didn’t you lead the way, Tharkun?” the king asked testily. 

The wizard smiled and moved ahead, leading the way into a large cavern. Gold, jewels, and assorted coins were scattered around the floor along with weapons, rotted scraps of cloth, and even more bones. As Thorin stood, hands on hips surveying the mess, the wizard started to happily root around in the mess. He reminded the dwarf of nothing so much as one of Dane's boars snuffling in leaf litter. Even the happy little grunt he gave when he found something that pleased him sounded just like the last piglet his cousin had shown him. 

 

The troll hoard had yielded a surprising amount of useful equipment. Thorin had a new sword and no one said anything about the much smaller, matching sword he had tucked into his pack. Surely the hobbit would need equipment eventually. Fili had found a brace of daggers he was fond of while Kili had raided the arrows that had been piled haphazardly around the cave. The elven arrows had been far too long for him to use with the bow he was currently carrying, but the arrowheads were excellent quality and the fletching would stand up to being packed and remounted on shorter arrows. The arrows made by men were somewhat shorter, not being designed for the monster longbows favored by most elves. They would be a little awkward, but Kili was the only one of them that had a weapon that could run out. It was better to have arrows he would never shoot than to have an empty quiver and an enemy still alive to come after him. 

Thorin pretended not to notice the others burying a large chest full of gold. Another piece of insurance against the future would hurt nothing. "Be sure you remember where this is," he told the kitten riding on his pack. "You could take some to compensate for damages when you return from Rivendell," he explained when the cat tilted his head and "murped?" questioningly. 

"He can find his own hoard," Nori said, dragging a second, smaller chest off to the side of the cave. 

"Now, be fair, Nori," Ori said following his bother. "Without Mr. Bilbo we'd all have been troll stew. It's only fair that he take part of the treasure. After all, we did empty his pantry."

"Well, now that was just common sense," Bombur said as he walked by dragging a giant sack that stank of troll. "No one wants to come back from a trip to find spoiled food in their pantry. We were simply keeping his neighbors from having to bother with it."

"Bombur," Thorin said, squeezing the bridge of his nose. 

"Aye?"

"What is in that sack?"

"Ingredients!" the cook said, proudly. 

"Ingredients for what?" Thorin asked, already dreading the answer. 

"Well, for stew, naturally," the redhead said.

"Stew. This wouldn't happen to be the stew we were very nearly ingredients in, would it?" Thorin took a deep breath to try to calm himself, but it only served to remind him that trolls were extraordinarily smelly creatures. 

"Just because they couldn't cook doesn't mean that they didn't have some first rate produce," Bombur told him. "Look at these potatoes!" He rummaged in the bag and pulled out a large, lumpy, brown object. The cook cradled it in his hand as though it was a cluster of gemstones. 

"I... see. Potatoes."

"And onions!" Bombur said with a cheerful grin. 

"Just find another bag. I don't want to be dragging the scent of troll after us all the way to Rivendell." Thorin walked away from the malodorous bag and its ostensibly edible contents. There was nothing that could induce him to eat potatoes that had been that close to a troll. Or onions. "Maybe the boys can have an accident near that bag," he muttered to himself as he walked away. Just behind his ear, Bilbo chuffed. 

"Well, you wouldn't be eating it, would you?" he asked, turning his head a little to address the cat. "Onions are bad for cats." Bilbo chuffed again. However, before Thorin cold talk to him about the proper way to address a king, the hobbit-cat suddenly hissed and arched up, fur puffing out to form an orange halo around his body. 

Thorin whirled, staring in the same direction as the cat. He strained his eyes and his ears, trying to determine what had frightened the normally placid animal. Within seconds his ears began to pick up the sound of feet running very quickly in their direction. "Something's coming!" he shouted, drawing his new sword awkwardly around his pack and the cat still hissing on top of it. 

The rest of his company dropped what they were doing and began to scramble for weapons and more defensible positioning. Kili scrambled up the rocks outside the cave until he was perched well over their heads, arrow to the bowstring and scanning the surrounding trees. Dwalin ran up and placed himself beside his king to the left, Fili taking up the same position on his right. The Ri brothers were clustered together near the cave mouth, both Dori and Nori united for once in shoving Ori behind them. Thorin saw the Urs doing the same with Bombur. Neither dwarf had much experience in battle although, Thorin knew they would see plenty on this trip. Balin and Oin hung back, ready to assist if anyone needed aid, while Gloin clutched his ax and looked ready to charge into the trees without waiting to see what they concealed. 

Something large and noisy burst out of the trees. The dwarrow all tightened their grips on weapons as they tried to determine exactly what was bearing down on them. Everything was a blur of brown, as the thing tore out into the clearing, thumping and rattling and with a male voice yelling over it all. "Fire! Murder! Death! Murder! Betrayal!" 

The thing circled the clearing, and Thorin turned to keep it in view. As he turned he saw Kili drawing back his bowstring, ready to strike. 

"Radagast!" Gandalf shouted popping back up from wherever he had dissapeared off to this time. "Enough!"

The panicked yelling subsided and the brown blur slowed until Thorin could see that it was a sledge being pulled by, "Rabbits?" Kili said, incredulous. 

"One of those would feed the entire company for a week!" Bombur shouted, poking his head out from between his kinsmen. "Kili, could you?" he gestured at the slowing rabbits. 

"There will be no shooting of Radagast's rabbits," Tharkun boomed, striding out to meet the passenger of the strange vehicle. "King Thorin, may I present Radagast the Brown. Radagast, this is Thorin, king of the dwarrow of Erebor." 

Not, Thorin felt the familiar sting, not "King Under the Mountain," but "king of the dwarrow of Erebor." It was deflating to be reminded here and in front of a wizard that looked as though he had served as an aviary for some very messy birds and had at least a dozen field mice nesting in his robes. 

"I never thought the grey wizard would seem elegant," Fili muttered beside him. "But in comparison, he's downright princely." Thorin restrained a smirk. The brown wizard was odd, but he was still one of the Istari. And it did not pay to insult them. Even Tharkun had a temper that could sometimes rise to the surface. 

"Gandalf! Gandalf all is lost! The dark is on the rise. Things stir from their graves." Radagast threw down a bundle at the grey wizard's feet. Even from a few yards away, Thorin could feel a chill malevolence radiating from the rags. 

"What have you done, Radagast?" Tharkun asked, voice tight. 

"Things are awake in Dol Guldur, Gandalf. A poison flows from there into the forest. There are restless dead, Gandalf. And there is that." He nudged his foot toward the bundle on the ground, but Thoin noted, he took care not to actually let his shoe or his robes brush against it. 

Tharkun looked sharply at the brown wizard before taking the end of his staff and nudging rags out of the way until Radagast's offering lay exposed upon the ground. The blade was black and radiated cold. The metal felt twisted although it lay quite straight under their gaze. "This was not forged by anything wholesome," Thorin said, revulsion at the perversion of his craft. 

"A Morgul blade," Gandalf said, voice hoarse. "You found it at Dol Guldur?"

"In an empty tomb," Radagast said. The two Istari shared a look. 

"Then we must hurry," Gandalf said, drawing his robes around himself. "Everyone, get your things. There is no time to lose!" 

Those of the company who were not already carrying their packs scrambled to get them. Bombur was still clutching the huge bag of produce, but Thorin was relieved to see that he also had the pack with their cooking supplies on his shoulders. "Kili," Thorin called up to his nephew. "Time to go."

But before the archer could jump down from the tree Bilbo started to growl. Thorin threw a hand up for silence. Something rustled to his left and and arrow flew in almost the same moment. A warg fell into the clearing, one of Kili's arrows through its eye. Two more wargs sprang out from the trees. Thorin met one with his new sword which sliced through fur and bone like the winter wind. The second warg was dispatched by Bofur who cleaved its skull open with his mattock. "There will be more," Radagast moaned. 

"Then we run," Gandalf said and set off through the trees. The dwarrow followed while Radagast and his rabbits ranged further out. The wargs had been advance scouts, but there was no telling how many made up the main force. They had no choice but to try to get to safety, although Throin could not be sure what kind of safety there was near enough to matter. 

"I'll draw them off," Radagast shouted when his sledge circled in close to their line. 

"Those are Gundabad orcs," Gandalf cried back. "They'll be on you in no time."

"These are Rosgbel rabbits," the brown wizard shouted back. "I'd like to see them try!" And with that he called up the rabbits into even faster motion and went streaking off into the trees, hopefully taking some of their pursuers with him. Thorin wished him luck, but saved his breath for running. 

The grey wizard led them on a zigzagging route through the trees until they came out onto a wide grassland. The only cover was small clusters of boulders that dotted the plain. It was suicide, but it was also the only place to go. They plunged into the grass and ran for the nearest set of rocks. Much further down the treeline Radagast's sledge broke out onto the plain as well, followed by a parade of orcs and wargs. For the moment, they seemed to be focused on the wizard and his rabbits, but Thorin didn't count on them missing the parade of dwarrow off to their right. 

The company made it to the first set of rocks and paused to catch their breath. They could hear the brown wizard's sledge rattling away some distance off and the call of hunting wargs. Bilbo, who had clung to Thorin's pack through the entire hectic dash, made a very low growl and batted at one of the king's braids. Thorin slowly turned his head to look up and saw the nose of a great brown warg just cresting the top of the boulder they were crouched behind. Thorin nudged Kili with his boot and his nephew slowly knocked and arrow and pulled back the string. The warg crept further over the rock, its wet fleshy nose quivering as it tried to scent the. 

Thorin was puzzled. Wargs had very keen senses of smell. It should have sensed the dwarrow already unless smething... He risked a glance to the side where Bombur was crouched, the huge bag from the troll's camp still over his shoulder. Thorin swore to himself that he would never criticize the rotund dwarf's appetite again. A soft 'twang' brought him back to the present moment and he saw Kili's arrow bury itself into the warg's throat. It tumbled down in a heap at their feet, spilling the orc that was riding it into their midst. The orc managed to let out a hoarse shout before one of Fili's swords took its head off. 

"Time to go," Thorin said, knowing at least one other rider would have been near enough to hear that shout. 

The company set off for the next patch of boulders. It was simply dumb luck that Radagast had looped his sledge around so that it crossed their path to cover. They were caught in the open as the pack of warg riders followed the wizard. Kili shot as quickly as he could while everyone else girded themselves to fight. It was a pack of twenty. Not the worst odds Thorin had ever faced, but it wasn't good. The wargs were just as vicious as the orcs and even less likely to retreat. "You might want to get yourself to safety," he told Bilbo as he pulled his sword once more. "I don't think my pack is going to be the safest place soon."

The cat murmured something and Thorin felt a small jolt as the hobbit leapt down from his shoulders. Then the first of the orc pack was upon them and the world dissolved into incoming attacks and available targets. The new sword was sharp enough that he didn't start to feel tired until the fifth body he cleaved through, but there was always another and another until suddenly there wasn't. The company had dealt with the immediate threat, but there were still more enemies on the way. 

Thorin did a quick survey and saw twelve heads, so the company was accounted for. Except for the cat and the wizard. "Bilbo!" Thorin shouted, his eyes darting here and there, searching for a glimpse of orange fur. 

"Where is the wizard?" Dwalin asked. 

"He's left us!" Thorin told him. "Look for cover." The wizard would show up again or not. Thorin was more worried about the hobbit. 

"This way you fools!" Tharkun called from the next cluster of rocks. 

Dwalin looked at him and Thorin waved him forward. The warrior started toward the stooped form of the Istari, grabbing the youngest Ri brother as he went. The rest of the company fell in behind them with Thorin and Kili covering the rear. Kili shot arrows as fast as he could, trying to take out the wargs since they were faster than the orcs. Thorin saw the last beast go down, spilling its rider head over heels and turned to sprint after the rest of the company. "Kili, come on!"

"Go!" his nephew shouted. "I'm right behind you!" 

Thorin was almost at the stones when he realized that Kili was not, in fact, behind him. He spun on his heels ready to run back only to see the brunette facing down against an orc with a very large mace. Kili's quiver was empty and there was no way he could get the bundle of extras open in time to save himself. And none of the dwarrow would be able to get to him at time. Thorin was not ready to watch another one of his family die. He gripped the hilt of his sword tight and launched himself back toward his nephew. 

The orc grinned and lifted his weapon ready to bring it down on Kili's head. As the mace descended two things happened; Kili rolled to the left and an orange blur swarmed up the orc's body, claws drawing black blood as they dug into the grey flesh. The orc screamed as Bilbo set about ripping its face to shreds. The monster dragged the cat off his head and flung it to the side, but the distraction was enough for Kili to lunge forward and bury a knife in the beast's neck. The young dwarf fell back, panting, but Thorin was proud to see that the bloody knife was still clutched firmly in one hand. 

"Well done. This time, you're in front," he growled, hauling his nephew up to his feet and shoved him into a lurching run. Thorin frantically looked around, trying to see where the cat had fallen. 

"I've got him!" Fili yelled, running toward him with a limp orange form cradled to his chest. Thorin felt something squeeze in his chest, but there was no time to check the hobbit over. He and his nephews thundered toward the stones where the rest of the company was standing around. 

"Go!" Thorin yelled and Tharkun began shoving dwarrow into a narrow crevice between two stones. Once he saw Fili and Kili through, Thorin dove in himself, just behind the wizard. Instead of a narrow passageway he found himself sliding down a smooth tunnel that ended in a cavern big enough to hold the entire company including wizard and cat. Said wizard was already looking over the cat. 

"Does he live?" Thorin asked, his throat scratchy and dry after all the fighting, running, and shouting. 

"He'll live. Our hosts will be able to be more precise. They-" He was interrupted as the body of an orc tumbled down the tunnel. A long, slender arrow protruded from its chest. 

"Elves?" Dwalin asked with disgust. 

"Of course," the wizard said and started down a tunnel Thorin had not noticed. 

"What do we do?" Bofur asked, glancing between his king and the wizard. 

"We follow him, of course," Nori said and set off after the flapping grey robe.


	6. Chapter 6 - Rivendell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Company makes it to the Last Homely House. In order to cure the hobbit, even Thorin is willing to deal with elves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short chapter. We've got one more in Rivendell and then off the the Misty Mountains!  
> As some of you may have noticed, I'm not being strict about conversations to either the book or the film versions. I hope that isn't bothering anyone too much.  
> Also, I do not currently have a beta looking over this. If anyone would like to just let me know!
> 
> And as always, thank you so much for your kudos and comments. It's really so amazing the reception this story has been getting.

The tunnel led them out onto a narrow ledge overlooking the valley of Imladris. "Rivendel" Thorin said, flatly. This was where they would leave the hobbit to be cured. He was strangely sad at the thought of not having the little creature around anymore. Of course, that could just be gratitude for him saving Kili at the risk of his own life. 

"Come, Lord Elrond will be able to see to Master Baggins."

The trip down into the valley was probably very beautiful to a mind not tangled in thoughts of guilt and regret. The hobbit-cat was such a tiny thing and yet he hadn't hesitated to attack a monster easily twice the size of a dwarf. He had saved them from the trolls even before that and had gotten nothing but injuries for his trouble.

"I'm sure the weed eaters will have the hobbit set right in no time," Dwalin said, nudging his shoulder. Thorin nodded, but did not reply. "Never would have thought to see the day you would willingly take hospitality from an elf."

"Tharkun cannot fix what happened to Master Baggins. If the elf-lord can, then I can stand to be polite to him. It is my debt to see repaid, after all."

"Your nephew's debt," the larger warrior reminded him.

"It comes to the same thing. The line of Durin owes Master Baggins three times over. And I will see it set right if I can. Even if I must play pretty with the weed-eaters."

"At least it is Imladris and not the Greenwood," Balin said, coming up from behind them. 

"There is nothing that would see me bend my head to Thranduil. I cannot run him through for betraying our people as he did, but I will never forgive him for it."

"Thorin," Balin started, but his king slashed his hand down, cutting off the words. 

"No, Balin. I am doing what I can. This elf did not turn his back on us. This elf did not sentence our people to starve and die. This elf, I can at least talk with. But not that piece of orc shit that cowers in his wood."

"He would have lost many, perhaps all of his own people had he sallied forth against the dragon," Gandalf said from ahead of them, not bothering to turn his head. Thorin growled at the words so casually tossed back into the wind. 

"Did we call for him to attack the dragon, Tharkun? Were you there? Did you hear me call out for a counter attack?" 

At this the wizard did slow his progress, but still he did not turn.

"I called out for aid. We had women and children burned beyond recognition. We had no food, no clothes, no medicine. Hundreds died simply trying to get into the cover of the trees and hundreds more on the road beyond. He could not have saved our mountain, but he could have helped save some of my people. But he was a coward. All he risked was some dirt and blood getting on his fine robes, but that was too much to ask from Thranduil Oropherion."

"He had, by that time, no cause to love the dwarrow," Gandalf said, slowly turning now. The waterfalls of Imladris provided a perfect backdrop for the grave almost reproachful air the Istari was attempting to project. 

"Do you think it better that he denied us succor because Thror denied him his gems? Do you really think being as mad for stones as Thror was for gold is a better excuse than cowardice?" He stared at the wizard with something very like contempt. 

"There is more to that story than you know, Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror. But we are seeking aid for the hobbit now, not dredging up ancient history." And the wizard simply turned and continued to walk down into the valley, leaving Thorin grinding his teeth on the path above. 

 

The thing about elves, Thorin thought, is that they were bloody tall. And elves on horses were even taller. Things had been going so well, more or less. Gandalf had led them down into the courtyard in front of the elf-lord's hall. A supercilious elf with long brown hair had greeted him and then informed him that Elrond was not at home. 

"But it is imperative that we speak with him," the wizard had said, as though Lindir could produce his lord from his pocket because it was Gandalf that demanded it. Thorin could sympathize with the steward's frustration. However, it seemed that Elrond was not really so far away as all that. He had been part of the hunting party that had eliminated the rest of the orcs. 

The horses all streamed into the courtyard and circled the dwarrow until all Thorin could see was a forest of legs and armor. 

"Mithrandir!" A tall, dark haired elf swung himself down from his horse and moved to embrace the wizard. The two began to converse in Sindarian, which Thorin was by no means fluent in. He nudged Balin who had made a more careful study of the language. Balin tilted his head slightly. The musical words flowed between the elf and the Istari and soon Balin's hands began to move in what might seem to outsiders like random twitches, but the Inglishmek gave Thorin a very rough sense of the conversation. It was mostly gossip, so he dismissed it from his mind. 

"Enough, Tharkun!" Thorin interrupted the two aggressively tall beings. "You can catch up with your friend later, but you have not even addressed the problem of Master Baggins who is both still injured and still a cat!"

"What?" Elrond started, glancing around. "You have injured?" The elf swung away from the wizard, barely sparing him a reproachful glance. Elrond knelt in front of Thorin, putting him much more on the king's level. "Please, let me see this injured companion." Protocol and greetings were thrown to the wayside in order to tend to the hobbit. 

Thorin stared into his eyes, gauging his sincerity for a moment before waving Fili forward. The blond dwarf gently carried Bilbo up to the elf, but did not hand the small cat over. "He hasn't woken up," the young prince told his uncle and the elf. 

"What has happened to him?" Elrond asked, gently running his hands over the limp form of the cat.

"He defended me from an orc. He took out its eyes, but it threw him pretty hard." The darker prince looked miserable as he stared down at the panting cat in his brother's arms. 

"He is battered, but he will recover. We do need to take him to the infirmary though, I have some herbs that will help. His ribs are the greatest concern at the moment. They are merely cracked," he reassured the dwarrow when Thorin lurched forward with alarm. "But we do not want him moving more than is strictly necessary so that he does not injure them further. The impact with the ground seems to have been the greatest culprit, although there are some scratches we should clean as well." Elrond stood in one smooth movement and gestured for them to follow him. "The rest of your company may refresh themselves or join us as they like."

Thorin was torn, but ultimately waved the others off with the wizard and Balin. Dwalin, naturally, accompanied the royal family to the halls of healing. 

"You said my patient was not truly a cat?" Elrond said quietly as they walked along. The elf was clearly not using his full stride, but he was graceful enough that it did not look like he was hobbling himself for Thorin's benefit. 

"Aye. He is a hobbit. Or was until my nephew- No, the other one," he corrected when the elf-lord glanced back at Fili. 

"I'm sorry, Uncle!" the guilty prince moaned. 

"Yes, that one decided to play about with the wizard's staff. The results are as you see." He waved a hand at the small cat in his older nephew's arms. 

"And Mithrandir could not restore him?" The raised eyebrow spoke volumes to the dwarf. 

"He said not," Thorin replied shortly. 

"Hmmm." Anyone that suspicious of the wizard might not be all bad.

 

They came to the elven halls of healing, which even Thorin could admit were beautiful. Not to his taste, being very much open and organic as though the hall had grown up like a tree, but beautiful nonetheless. "Come, there is a room where I may work here."

The dwarrow followed their host into a small chamber that was appointed for long term medical care. Elrond busied himself finding various herbs and tinctures in one of the cabinets against the wall. A jug held fresh water that he used to blend some his finds into a smooth paste. "Lay him on the bed, please."

Reluctantly, Fili divested himself of the tiny scrap of hobbit. Bilbo looked heart-breakingly small on the green coverlet. His sides rose and fell, rose and fell, rose and fell as he panted through the pain. Thorin moved until he was standing on the side of the bed opposite the elf. Fili and Kili stood guard at the foot, close enough to allow for free access to the cabinets or the door. Thorin watched his youngest nephew surreptitiously wipe some moisture away from his eyes. It was unbecoming for a dwarf to show such emotion in front of an elf, but he chose not to reprimand the lad. It had been an emotional day for all of them.

Elrond brought the paste and set it on the bed near Bilbo's head. Then he spread his hands out over the cat, much as Tharkun had done in the tunnel. Then he began to sing. Thorin was startled. He had never heard an elf sing, even when Erebor had been on better terms with the Greenwood. He had heard the sylvan elves play various instruments, but never had they shared their own voices with their guests.

And as a steady golden light began to shine between the elf-lord's hands and the heaving fur of the hobbit, Thorin thought he knew why. There was an emotion in Elrond's healing song that Thorin had thought only dwarrow shared in their music. None of the songs he had heard men sing had ever carried much more depth than a drinking song. He had not realized that elves felt so deeply. They were always so flat , never showing emotion even in the midst of battle. But this song, this simple healing song that Elrond had not hesitated to share with them changed his perception of the weed eaters. Perhaps they did have hearts after all.

Kili was tilting his head to the side, trying to take in the words. They were in Sindarian, which Thorin was no longer fluent in, but he thought they had something to do with greenness and life and growth. Plant things, but perhaps not so bad when one wanted to heal a hobbit. The Shire certainly seemed to have plenty of green around.

"He would like that song, I think," Fili murmured. 

"He didn't like our song," Kili said, sounding grumpy. 

"Our song was about damaging his table wear," Fili reminded his brother. "I'm not surprised at all that he didn't like it."

"He was so fussy," Kili said, thinking back. "We couldn't help but twist his nose a bit. We didn't actually break anything."

"And you'll be making it up to him once he's in any condition to tell us how," Thorin growled at the younger dwarrow. "It is shameful to treat a host in such a fashion." And, he thought privately, it is shameful to let an elf know that you had behaved with so little honor. 

"Yes, Uncle."

While they had been talking Elrond had finished up his healing spell. "He will sleep until morning, but the ribs should knit overnight. He will need to be kept calm for several more days. If he exerts himself the bones could give way. He must also consume all of this paste before the next moonrise." Elrond lay the bowl down on the bed. 

"And you are telling us this because?" Thorin raised an eyebrow at the elf.

"I had thought one of you might like to stay with him. I can, of course, have one of the healers-"

"I'll do it!" Kili said, springing around the end of the bed to scoop the bowl up. "What do I do?" He looked eagerly up at Elrond, eyes large and excited. Thorin was glad to see that the ancient elf had no better luck denying that look than Thorin himself did. Caring for Master baggins would be good for Kili and give him a chance to assuage any lingering guilt. The hobbit had gotten hurt in his defense after all. But, Kili was also easily distracted when he didn't truly value his task. Thorin looked to be sure that Fili was also taking in the directions. The older prince was standing with his hands behind his back nodding along as the elf discussed dosages and timing. He could leave the hobbit-cat in their care without worrying, so when the elf-lord gathered his few things and made ready to depart, Thorin strode to the door with him. 

 

"Can you change him back?" Thorin asked when they had walked a little ways along one of the many paths. The air was warm and smelled of mint and lavender from the garden beds outside the healing halls. 

"I did not have time to truly study the spell, but the healing also maps out the systems of the one being healed. We must understand the whole in order to know how to repair it." Thorin nodded. Blacksmithing was similar. You could patch something without truly understanding its construction, but chances were the patch would fail within weeks. "I could feel the shape of the hobbit somehow within the cat, but I could not see a clear way to separate them again. I will have to study him more when he is well."

Thorin nodded, accepting the delay in his own plans. The hobbit was owed and time was one of the most abundant coins a dwarf had. They would stay.


	7. Killing Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin and Co. have decided to stay in Rivendell until Blibo can be examined. But what do they do there?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short filler chapter to finish out Rivendell. I may come back and add some side stories here and there, but I really want to get on to the goblins!  
> Thank you, as always, for the amazingly kind words you're all leaving. It really helps when the words aren't coming as fast as I would like.

True to the elf's prediction, Blibo's ribs seemed to be in reasonable shape the next morning. The small cat was sitting in Fili's lap when Thorin went to check on them before breakfast. Kili was feeding him some of the herbal paste off his finger as the two brothers chatted. "But, if he stays a cat then maybe that would work out even better. If a dragon is uninterested in a hobbit, think about how much less it would care about a cat!"

"But how could a cat do what is needed?" Fili answered. "He doesn't have hands like this!" 

"But he could carry the Arkenstone in his mouth!" Kili said triumphantly. A second later he yelped as Bilbo bit his herb-covered finger. "What was that for?" the young prince said, cradling his hand to his chest. 

"I don't think Master Baggins appreciates your plan to keep him in his present form for our convenience." The two lads jumped at the sound of their uncle's voice. 

"We weren't going to keep him like this!" Kili said to defend themselves. "This is just in case the elves can't fix him."

"I doubt he'll want to continue with us if the elves are unable to cure what you've done. Now, come along. It's time for breakfast." The hobbit-cat's ears perked up at the mention of breakfast and he jumped off Fili's lap and streaked out the door. 

"Master Boggins, wait! You're not supposed to exert yourself!" Thorin shook his head as his nephews went thundering after the cat in an attempt to keep him from re-injuring himself. 

Breakfast was more lively than dinner had been. the worry over Master Baggins had kept them all subdued through the previous meal. Breakfast was also more familiar to the dwarven palate, being made of fruits, porridge, and various breads. There were only a few vegetables, which helped avoid an outright riot. There were now sausages, no bacon, but they all left with full bellies. Bilbo spent the meal ranging up and down the table, being fed tidbits off everyone's plate. 

Once the meal was over, Thorin scooped the cat up into his arms and waved his nephews to follow him. "Elrond has given us a set of rooms and all three of you should get some rest."

"Murp."

"Yes, even you Master Baggins. You were healing last night, not truly resting. And, if nothing else, you must need to sit still to digest your breakfast. I think you may have eaten as much as Bombur."

"Blat!" The cat jumped down from Thorin's arms and stalked through the door ahead of them. His exit would have been more dramatic if that had, in fact been the entrance to their rooms. As it was not, he had to come stalking back out and wait for the dwarf to lead them all to the right apartments. 

*** 

Thorin relaxed onto the elven bed. It was far too soft, but Bilbo seemed to like it. The small cat was wandering around batting at the silken covers. Thorin smirked as he thought about the look on the supercilious elf's face when he noticed all the small snags that the kitten's claws had left in the bed coverings. "Come here, Bilbo," the dwarf said. "We need to talk about what comes next."

"Mrow?" the hobbit-kitten asked. 

"Elrond is looking into changing you back, but he didn't seem too confident to me."

"Mrup," the cat agreed. 

"So, if we cannot change you back into your usual form, I can send the boys back to the Shire with you..." Thorin broke off as the cat let out a low growl.

"You don't want to go back to the Shire?" Thorin asked incredulously. "Oh," he said, his brow clearing. "You want to stay here where Elrond can continue to examine you. That makes sense." 

Again, the dwarf was interrupted, this time by a fierce swat from the hobbit's claws. "You can't mean to come with us! It's far too dangerous. What would you do in a mountain full of dragon?" However, it became quite clear that the hobbit-cat did indeed mean to travel on with them. Bilbo had curled up in his lap and was purring away. The faint prick of claws indicated that the hobbit was very serious about not being moved, either from his comfy resting place or from his traveling companions. 

"Bilbo," Thorin said exasperated. "There is a dragon waiting for us at the end of this quest. There are orcs between here and there. There is the forest of Mirkwood, which is full of unwholesome things. None of these are things that a hobbit should be anywhere near, much less a hobbit who has been turned into a cat!"

Bilbo squeezed his eyes shut and put his head very firmly down on Thorin's knee. The dwarf sputtered for a bit, but eventually gave into the inevitable. The cat was, apparently, going to be traveling with them if the weedeater in charge of this place couldn't turn him back into a hobbit. Although, Thorin wasn't entirely sure that the hobbit wouldn't be just as stubborn as the cat.

 

"I'm afraid this spell is beyond my power," Elrond told them as they gathered in his study the next morning. "Perhaps the Lady Galadriel could tease it apart, or Sarumon? He is the head of the White Council after all. Surely he has seen something like this accident before." 

"I doubt it," Gandalf said, his voice gruff. "I do not believe that in the history of Arda anything quite so foolish as Kili has gotten hold of a wizard's staff. There is no telling what kind of mischief he has wrought if even you cannot work through this snarl. Perhaps the White Lady though... She has seen much that even the Istari have not. But we have not time at present to take him to the Golden Wood." 

 

"The hobbit will continue on with us," Thorin announced flatly. He let the two oversized magic users sputter for some time, not bothering to try to talk over them. The kitten on his shoulder purred his approval and Thorin reached up to scratch under Bilbo's chin. "He is is own being, cat or no. He proved that well enough with the trolls." The tall ones shut up ant the reminder that Bilbo was more than capable of making his thoughts known. The elf even cast a wary eye over the tray of snacks Lindir had laid out for him. 

"My dear Thorin," Gandalf started, but the dwarf slashed his hand down to interrupt the wizard. 

"How, exactly, do you plan to keep him, Tharkun? Are you going to lock him in a cage so he cannot follow us? Are you going to spell him to sleep until one of you can return him to his usual form? Will you take even more choice from him? You wanted him on this journey to begin with, after all. Well, he is on it. And he is staying on it."

"Mrap!" 

"Thank you, Bilbo. Your input is, as always, appreciated," Gandalf said, his voice dryer than the wine from dinner the night before. 

"We won't be leaving the hobbit behind. We won't be sending him back. And we won't be sending him off somewhere else. He comes with us," Thorin said. "Now, if you could help us with where we're going?: He gestured toward Balin who looked at him, incredulously. 

"Your Majesty," his adviser started.

"Show him," Thorin ordered. Balin sighed, but he pulled the map out anyway. Elrond moved closer as the old dwarf smoothed out the parchment. 

"May I?" the Lord of Rivendell asked before he touched the map. Thorin just gestured again. 

The elf lifted the map and read over the kuzdhul. Then he did something strange. He walked over to the window and tilted the page this way and that. "Moon runes," he said as a faint shimmer flashed across the bottom of the drawing. 

"Moon runes, of course," Gandalf said. "Can you read them?"

"I could, but the phase of the moon isn't right today."

"How long?" Thorin asked, voice raspy. 

"It appears that these were written during a new moon on Midsummer night. The same moon will ride the sky in three days time," Elrond told him gravely. 

"May we intrude on your hospitality for that long?" Thorin asked. Bilbo's purr against his ear told him that he had made the right decision. Diplomacy was much easier when one's conscience was a small orange hobbit-kitten. 

"Of course, Thorin, King Under the Mountain," he said, staring into the dwarf's eyes. He knew. There was no doubt that the elf was aware of what the dwarrow were hoping to accomplish. And he was not going to stop them. 

"My thanks," Thorin said, bending his head to an elf for the first time. 

 

The next three days were... eventful. The dwarrow offended their hosts by using one of the outdoor fountains as a bath. The elves offended the dwarrow by not serving any meat. And the kitten-hobbit ran off at every opportunity and came back dragging a variety of visitors into their rooms. First it was the twin terrors, apparently they were the sons of their host. Elrohir and Elladan were pranksters of the highest order. Fili and Kili's eyes lit up the second the twin elves spilled laughing into the room. Bilbo sat to the side and squeezed his eyes shut in joy as the four younglings went tripping off to cause mayhem. By unspoken agreement, none of the rest of the company ventured far from their room for the rest of the day. 

The next day, it was a young human boy. Estel introduced himself quietly. He was the foster son of Elrond, but Gandalf's bushy eyebrows rose so high that Thorin knew there was something more than an orphaned human being raised by elves. But, it was none of his affair, so he left it alone and watched the boy get to know his dwarrow. He seemed to find a connection to Ori who told stories about the old kingdoms, Erebor, Gondor, Dale. The boy drank them all in like chilled cider on a summer night. 

"You should come to the Hall of Fire tonight," Estel told the scribe. 

"The Hall of Fire?" Ori asked.

"It's where our bards and storytellers perform. There is something every night; singing, dancing, storytelling. You should come, Ori!" Estel said again. 

"Do you really think anyone would want to hear me?" Ori asked, taken aback. 

"Of course! You tell the best stories. Everyone would love them. We don't hear dwarven stories often."

"Yes, well..." Ori floundered, looking at Thorin for guidance. 

"Mrow!" 

"Do you want to see the storytellers, Bilbo?" Thorin asked the cat who was sitting off to the side. 

"Purrrrrrrrr."

"It seems we will be attending the festivities tonight," Thorin said. "After all, I would hate to be the one to disappoint Master Baggins."

"Yeah, Kili is still afraid of him," Nori laughed. 

"Why?" Dwalin asked. "Bilbo saved the lad from that orc on the way here."

"Yeah, so he could keep torturing him. Bilbo doesn't want his prey to get away," Nori laughed. "The lad isn't nearly through paying for turning our hobbit into a kitten."

"Bilbo is a hobbit?" Estel asked, voice high.

"Aye, at least, he's usually a hobbit. Obviously, at the moment he is experiencing a slight change of circumstance thanks to stupidity of my younger nephew," Thorin told him. 

"What did he do?!?" Estel asked with wide eyes. 

The dwarrow fell all over themselves to explain the unlikely events at Bag End. Thorin sat to the side, with Bilbo resting on his thighs and purring through the entire story. "Are you sorry?" 

"Mrow?" Bilbo asked quietly. 

"Are you sorry about all this?" Thorin waved his hand to indicated the dwarrow and all the events that had led them to this point. Bilbo turned his head and looked up at Thorin. 

The kitten didn't say anything, but yawned and kneaded his paws into the wool of Thorin's trousers and settled his head back down, purring all the way. 

"That's good," Thorin said, and stroked the small cat while Estel's laughter rose over the deeper rumbles of his company. 

 

On the third evening, Elrond invited Thorin, Balin, Gandalf, and Bilbo back to his moon-drenched study. The map was laid out on a table by the windows and everyone could clearly see the silver letters that had risen up on the surface of the parchment. Elrond leaned over, careful not to let the fall of his hair block the light. "Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks, and the setting sun with  
the last light of Durin's Day will shine upon the key-hole."

"So, there is a door," Thorin said. 

"And a key," Balin said.

"And, a deadline," Gandalf said. 

"Durin's day," Thorin said, looking at Balin. 

"Not much time," the older dwarf agreed. "We need to leave soonest if we're going to get over the Misty Mountains before the winter sets in."

"My Lord," Thorin bowed to Elrond. "We thank you for your hospitality, but I find we must excuse ourselves."

"Of course. Please allow me to provide you with some additional provisions. It will be a very arduous trip across the mountains." The elf's voice was completely bland, but Thorin thought he could see a hint of a smile. 

Elves, Thorin thought to himself, were not all bad after all.


	8. Chapter 8: Into the Mountains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Company leaves Rivendell and heads into the Misty Mountains. We all know how well that goes!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, my mistakes are my own. This is still un-betaed so if you see a problem, please feel free to point it out! Thank you, Varjoratsu for pointing one out to me in the last chapter. ^.^
> 
> This is a longer chapter than many. I just sort of powered through the caves.  
> I'm playing with doing a side story that gives you some of the pertinent moments from Bilbo's perspective. Let me know if you'd like to see that.

The mountain pass was as cold and treacherous as the elves had warned it would be, but it was their best chance of crossing the Misty Mountains in time to reach Erebor before Durin's Day. Balin had pointed out that if they missed this opportunity they could try again next year, but Tharkun had looked cagey at that. And Elrond himself had urged them to go now. Thorin wasn't sure what it meant that a prophetic elf thought they needed to hurry, but he was sure that it wasn't anything good for his people. 

Leaning down so that his head was against the icy wind, Thorin pushed on. The rest of the company, with the exception of the wizard straggled along behind him. It had all seemed so easy at the base of the mountain. 

***

"Wait for me two days before you attempt the pass," the Grey Wizard had told him. "If I have not made it by then, you must press on, but I do not like the thought of you going into the mountains alone. Dark things are moving in these mountains. Something is stirring."

"Deal with your Council and whatever it was the Brown Wizard brought you. We will bide at the foot of the mountain as long as we may," Thorin had told him before the dwarrow slipped out of Rivendel a step or two ahead of the unexpected meeting of the White Council. 

None of the dwarrow were interested in encountering the elven witch of the Golden Wood or the White Wizard, Sarumon. Tharkun was known for manipulating and finessing people to follow his plans. Sarumon simply overwhelmed opposition until you found yourself doing exactly what he wanted. And the dwarrow were no one's puppets. 

The two days had passed with no further sign of the Istari. "Thorin?" Balin had asked, looking at the metallic sheen of the clouds settling onto the mountains. 

"We must cross now or the pass will be closed, possibly for weeks. If anyone thought to bring climbing spikes, now would be a good time to put them on," he said. 

Only Nori, Bifur, and Dwalin had thought to bring the spikes and quickly moved to attach them to boots and gloves. 

"Not surprised you have some, thief," Dwalin growled at the redhead. 

"Aww, you have been paying attention," Nori cooed back while Dori bristled. 

"Enough," Thorin interrupted before a fight could break out. It might bleed off some of the tension surrounding them, but they didn't have the time to recover from any possible injuries. "We have to go now. Blibo?" he asked, looking around for the small cat. 

"Mrow," the hobbit-cat said from his perch on Dwalin's shoulder. 

"Be careful. Once the wind picks up it may be too much for you."

"Murp," the cat agreed. Thorin wondered if making deals with cats was a sign of impending madness, but if the cat was a hobbit... He shook his head to clear it of the thoughts. Bilbo was Bilbo. Of course he understood what was going on. And talking to him was perfectly rational. 

"Move out!" he shouted, throwing his arm forward. The thirteen dwarrow began to tackle the ascent. Bilbo, contrary to his recent habit decided to ride with Dwalin. He swarmed up the larger dwarf until he was riding on his shoulder. Dwalin "harumphed," but didn't object to his tiny orange passenger.

The further up they climbed the colder the air grew. Once snow started to fly through the air, Bilbo took refuge inside Dwalin's coat, only his ears, eyes, and nose poking out like a fuzzy necklace. As the storm grew harder, event those retreated behind the barrier of wool and fur.

"It's getting too dangerous!" Dwalin shouted up toward Thorin as the storm raged on in near white-out conditions. "We can't see where the edge is!"

"I know," Thorin shouted back. "But there's no where to stop." Contrary to his pronouncement, Thorin did call a halt. The rest of the company straggled to a halt along the icy trail. "Keep an eye out for somewhere to get out of this blasted weather," he shouted back along the line. "Bifur, you especially! You've got the best stone sense of any of us."

Bifur waved his boar spear in agreement. It was as Thorin was turning back to lead on that it happened. His foot slipped on a small patch of ice as he turned and he pinwheeled near the edge. Dwalin let out a shout and lunged to catch his king. He managed to haul Thorin back up onto the path, but the sudden movement made his jacket bulge open for a moment and sent his feline passenger flying out into the frigid air.

Bilbo screeched as he too went skidding toward the edge. Dwalin was still reeling Thorin in and couldn't spare a hand for the cat that was about to go plummeting over the cliff. Thorin's legs were flailing as he was dragged back up to the path and Bilbo, whether by luck or design, managed to snag the claws of one paw in the laces binding the dwarf's boots to his leg. It was by no means a secure hold and he continued to wail as Dwalin dragged the two of them further toward safety. Bilbo fought for purchase, digging his claws ruthlessly into the dwarf's pants, and by his bellow, into Thorin's flesh as well. But finally after an endless stretch of terror and screaming, king, guard, and cat were all collapsed into a heap on the path.

Balin came bustling up to help his brother to his feet while Oin moved in to check the king over for injury. "Other than my pride and my leg, I am well," Thorin told the healer.

"Your leg? Did you wrench it going over?"

"No, a hellcat of a hobbit used me for a ladder," Thorin said, collecting the cat in question into a tight embrace.

"I thought we'd lost him," Bofur said as he too crowded close to the huddle.

"We never should have brought him," Thorin said, looking down at the shivering mass of wet cat in his arms. "He could have been lost so many times since this all started."

"Thorin, I don't think-" Bofur started before a low growl from Bilbo interrupted him.

"Rooooowrrrrrrrr."

"It's nothing against you, Bilbo. But you're so tiny and fragile, not like us rockheads," Kili said, pushing his way into the scrum.

"Uncle is just worried," Fili added. "He gets like this when someone scares him."

"I do not!" Thorin said.

"Whether you do or not isn't really the issue at the moment," Balin interrupted. "The storm is getting worse. Can't you hear the thunder?" A loud "BOOM" punctuated his words and everyone looked up at the sky to see if the lightning would be able to penetrate the snow. But the skys remained dark except for the little light reflecting of the swirling flakes.

"We need cover!" Balin shouted as another "BOOM" echoed across the mountain. This one sounded much, much closer.

"There is something up ahead," Bifur growled in Kuzdhul. "But it does not feel like wholesome stone." Thorin and Dwalin exchanged a look. There were few things that could fundamentally taint stone. Dragons, for example. If they did manage to reclaim Erebor, the entire mountain would have to be cleansed. Orcs could do it. Goblins. He had heard that other minions of darkness could also poison good stone, but he had never seen a ringwraith or a (something else evil.) That Bifur was sensing something unclean ahead did not reassure him. 

The next "BOOM" seemed to be just overhead and a rain of rock shards and snow came crashing down onto their heads. "This is not storm," Thorin said, with horrified realization, stuffing Bilbo unceremoniously into his own coat and tying it tightly shut.

"Stone giants!" Kili shouted, pointing at where a piece of the next mountain seemed to be moving. A massive boulder leaving its arm and flying in their direction.

The next moments were confusion as the ledge they had thought so stable moments ago proved to be a piece of a stone giant's thigh. It stood to join its fellows in their altercation, spilling dwarrow and their cat in all directions. Only by virtue of a well timed leap and a coincidental push from some collapsing rock was the company all preserved. But between the storm and the giants, Thorin found no choice but to seek shelter in the cave Bifur had sensed. 

"Fili, Kili, check every nook, every side passage. Dwalin, go with them, please. If Bifur felt something then it won't do to let our guard down." The warrior nodded and followed the two princes deeper into the cave.

"It's not much to look at," Nori said, scuffing his foot through the sand that seemed to line the floor. "And what's with the sand, anyway?"

"The floor should be bare stone," Bifur agreed.

"A-at least it's warmer than o-outside," Ori said, his teeth chattering.

"Maybe, but everyone stay alert," Thorin commanded. "Bombur, do we have anything that we can eat?"

The larger dwarf walked over to the king and pulled his pack off. "There's jerky," he said. "And that elven bread, lem-something. It's supposed to be filling." He sounded skeptical. Nothing they had eaten at Rivendell had been especially filling until Elrond's twins had returned their last night with a few deer slung over their horses' withers. The meat had been gladly received by the hungry dwarrow. They had been surprised to find all their packs supplied with jerky and the flat elven waybread when they were ready to go.

"I've some fixings for soup, but there's nothing here to make a fire," the cook continued.

"We'll have some jerky then, and try the bread. I don't imagine we'll find it as filling as the elves do, but at least it's something in our bellies. We won't find anything to eat up here," Thorin said morosely, holding out a hand for his share of the jerky.

He bit off a medium-sized piece and then untied his coat to allow Bilbo to poke his head out. The kitten popped out of the blue coat, with a disgruntled "Mrowp," as if he was complaining about the accommodations.

"Don't be like that. I didn't want you to come spilling out. Again," he said, glaring down at the orange fluff-ball. Bilbo turned his nose up and Thorin watched as his little pink nose twitched. "Hungry?" he asked mildly.

The cat scrambled the rest of his way out of the coat and snatched the piece of dried meat out of the dwarf's hands. Thorin chuckled as the cat dragged his dinner off toward the wall of the cave. "Enjoy."

Bilbo ignored him and began to gnaw on the jerky, holding the meat between his paws. Thorin left him to it and began to eat his own meal. The jerky was flavorful, but the bread was strange. It seemed almost to cling to his tongue while he chewed. A few bites was enough to sate his hunger. He set the rest of the piece of bread off to the side on the leaf it had been wrapped in. 

"How much bread do we have?" He asked Bombur. 

"Each pack has ten pieces."

:That may be enough to see us through to Dale if we're careful. I hate to admit that the weed eaters are right about anything, but a few items filled me up almost completely."

"I don't think it will last us quite that long," Dori said, dryly. 

"What? Why?" Thorin asked before looking at where teh silver-haired dwarf was pointing. Bilbo had dragged the lembas bread off it's leaf and was ripping into it like a starving wolf. Half the piece disappeared while Thorin watched. 

'Where is he putting it?" Dori asked. 

"I have no idea," Thorin answered, staring at their hobbit. "But he has always eaten a great deal, especially for such a small cat." Bilbo finished off the bread while they talked and set about cleaning his whiskers. 

"Bread's not bad," Bobur said around a mouthful. "Wish there was some more, though."

Thorin and Dori shared a look. "So, we won't be calling off Kili's hunting anytime soon," Dori said. 

"No, I don't believe we will. And if Bilbo was really hungry enough to eat all that, we may need to try to double what we bring in."

"Aye, we don't want the wee thing to starve," Dori said, sounding shocked.

 

Everyone settled down once they had eaten and listened to the crashing of rocks outside the cave. The stone giants were still battling, keeping the company trapped inside the cave for now. "I know it has been a long day," Thorin said. "But it might be best if we all try not to sleep."

"Aye," Bifur agreed. "I do not like this rock. Especially there in the center." The toy maker nodded toward the sandy patch where they had set their fire.

"Tharkun warned us that there might be orcs or goblins in these mountains. And Bifur says the stone is wrong. Keep everything, especially your weapons nearby. Bofur, can you take first watch on the mouth of the cave? The rest of us will keep an eye on things here." Bofur's ridiculous hat bobbed as he nodded at his king and moved along to sit at the mouth of the cave. Thorin was glad to see that the miner had his pack on his shoulders rather than leaving it on the cave floor as they would usually do in camp. Once his guard was on watch, Thorin leaned back against the stone of the cave wall and set his unsheathed sword across his lap. The elven-forged steel would glow blue in the presence of any of Morgoth's filth and with Bifur's warning, he doubted they would make it thorough the night without encountering some blighted enemy or another.

The rest of the dwarrow settled into a kind of resting trance that hunters could often fall into. The smallest noise or movement could rouse them to full wakefulness, but it allowed them to get at least a little rest during a long wait. Some of them were better at it than others. Oin had to be nudged awake by his brother while Dwalin, Kili, and surprisingly Ori all sank down into the meditative state within moments and held it through the long hours of the night.

Thorin roused from his trance to the sharp prick of claws poking through his trousers. He glanced down to see what Blibo wanted and saw that Orchrist was starting to glow faintly blue. He nodded to the cat and reached out a hand to tap Dwalin's boot. His friend roused immediately, saw the sword Thorin was holding up and moved to wake the next dwarf. Soon, the entire company was awake and on their feet, weapons in hand, as the sword's glow reached full brightness. None of them were terribly surprised when the ground under their fire gave way, sending burning logs and sand sliding down a rough stone tunnel.

There was a brief moment of silence, during which it seemed like perhaps their precautions had been enough, before even more of the floor gave way sending them all tumbling into the darkness. "Mahal's arse!" Thorin cursed as he tumbled head over tail down the passage, It was sheer luck that he didn't stab himself or any of his fellows with Orchrist. He had heard some of the fruit of Gondolin's forges had been more than dead metal. He had not believed, of course, that the weed eaters could do anything with ores that the dwarrow could not, but later he could not explain the lack of injury except by the fact that his sword did not want to hurt him. It was the only way he could explain how he landed face up on a pile of dwarrow with his sword still in his hand and did not skewer a single one of them.

"Ow," came a small squashed voice from the bottom of the pile.

"Ori!" Dori yelled and heaved himself out of the mess, toppling the three dwarrow on top of him to either side. Thorin rolled with the movement and ended up on his feet in front of the others when the goblins came flooding of the tunnel ahead of them.

They whined when they saw the bright blue light of Orchrist, but they feared something behind them more than the Goblin Cleaver in front of them and swarmed on. The first was cut in two from shoulder to hip, his body tangling the feet of the goblins to either side, but that did not slow them down for long. Bigger goblins trampled smaller goblins in their hurry to get to the dwarrow that had fallen into their trap. Thorin had no time to see how the rest of the company fared. As soon as Orchrist bit into one goblin another took its place. But he could hear scuffling behind him that gave him hope. 

Hope that was repaid shortly when arrows began to fly forth to seek goblin flesh as Kili found his feet and set his bow to rights. Dwalin stepped up beside his king and began to lay about him with his axes, Grasper and Keeper. "The others?" Thorin stole a second to ask, not letting his eyes stray from the enemy. 

"Guarding the rear. Everyone is up." Reassured, Thorin redoubled his efforts to live up to the name of his sword, Goblin Cleaver. Limbs flew through the air, and even Dwalin paused briefly when one vigorously removed arm was flung aside and slapped a small goblin clean off the path. They heard him scream once as he hit something on the way down. That was when Thorin realized just how narrow their margin of safety truly was. Not only did they have to worry about the goblins, but they had not fallen into another cave so much as they had landed on a narrow walkway over an abyss. 

He was briefly reminded of the long pathway in the great hall of Erebor. Thror's throne had been at the end of such a narrow walkway and the darkness to either side had been no brighter than that which had just swallowed up one of his enemies. In the last days before the dragon, Thorin remembered, his grandfather had thrown dwarrow off that pathway. There had been nothing for them to hit except the root of the mountain. And that deep, no one above could hear them scream. 

"Pay attention!" Dwalin bellowed in his ear, lunging to block a goblin with a pitted sword who would have run Thorin through in another second. 

"I'm fine!" he shouted back, leaning to the side as another of Kili's arrows went whistling past his ear to strike the throat of a little toad-like goblin with a crossbow. It squeezed the trigger as it died sending a wild bolt flying toward the dwarrow. Dwalin grabbed a small goblin to use as a shield and then flung the corpse at another, sending them both off the walkway. If there was anything living down in that abyss, it must think it was raining goblins tonight, Thorin thought. 

The company battled hard, but twelve dwarrow is no match for an entire mountain full of goblins and eventually they were overrun. Although, they could congratulate themselves that it took over two dozen goblins dropping onto them from the roof before they were overrun. Weapons were wrenched out of hands and they all found their arms tied very tightly behind them. The goblins didn't bother to pull their packs off, which meant the strain on the shoulders was even worse as their arms were wrenched back to meet over the top of the bags. As they were shoved into a large cavern, Thorin managed to bump into Nori and grunted. The thief nudged him upright with a shoulder and raised an intricately braided eyebrow. Reassured on that front Thorin began to take stock of his company. 

Ori was huddled beside Dori, a small cut over one eyebrow, which his brother was trying to blot without the use of his hands. Fili and Kili were together and neither seemed to have much wrong with them. Gloin was favoring his left foot a bit, but it didn't look serious. The Urs were all fine and Bofur was even smiling until a tiny goblin swarmed up him and snatched his hat. 

"Give that back you rukhs shirumund caragu! *" The tiny thief just cackled and jumped away, ending up on the shoulder of an excessively large goblin. Although, not, Thorin realized, as excessive as what waited for them on some sort of throne made of garbage and bones. 

"Who would be so bold as to come armed into my kingdom? Spies? Thieves? Assassins?!" the thing shouted. 

"Dwarves, your Malevolence," whined a scabby goblin standing in front of the company. 

"Dwarves?" the great goblin asked, his pallid flesh quivering with excitement. 

"We found them on the front porch."

"We would have knocked," Bofur said, interrupting whatever the creature was about to say. "But you did rather hide your door. We built a fire on it, you know." The miner grinned, looking even more ridiculous with his gravity-defying braids on full display without his hat. "It's downright unwelcoming, is what it is."

"Welcoming? Welcoming? I'l show you welcoming! Bring out the Mangler! Bring out the Bone-Breaker! Start with the youngest!" he bellowed, pointing at Ori who was still being fussed over by Dori. 

"Wa-" Thorin started to say, but he was roughly shouldered aside by an enraged Dori. 

"Why you disgusting sack of filth!" the silver-haired dwarf bellowed. "How dare you threaten my kin! I'll turn you inside out!" The dwarf continued to scream at the massive goblin, the muscles in his chest and shoulders bulging in rage. Bombur bellied his way up to the front as well, knocking at least three goblins off the platform as he went. Dori's yelling covered any sound they might have made on the way down. 

"Now see here," Bobur said, thrusting his great belly out into the air. "It seems to me that such a fine figure of a goblin must know quite a lot about cooking. Now, we've been wandering these mountains for days without a decent meal. It only seems fair that if you're going to mash us all up in some kind of mangler like dwarf sausage that we should be well fed first. So, who do I talk to about getting a meal?" He blinked up inquisitively at the goblin king. 

"A meal?" the goblin purred, his huge goiter swinging freely as he moved his head to stare down at Bombur. "The only meal in question here, my dear disgusting little dwarf, is you. Do we eat you raw or in a stew? Or," he paused, licking his lips. "There is someone who has placed a premium on dwarven heads. Just the heads, mind you, with nothing attached. It means I can't pop your eyeballs between my teeth, but sacrifices must be made, mustn't they?" 

He leered down at the company just as Thorin felt Dwalin tread firmly on his right boot. Hating it, but seeing the sense, Thorin bent his knees until his face was below the shoulders of the dwarrow in front of him. Although he almost popped back up at the goblin's next words. "Perhaps you know of whom I speak. And old enemy of your race, a pale orc astride a white warg." He chuckled at the sharp intake of breath among his audience. "It seems his defiling days are not quite so done as you would have thought." A flick of his putrid fingers sent a small goblin sliding off into the darkness, presumably to tell the pale orc about the captives. 

If he meant Azog, if that filth yet lived, it would explain why they were being hunted. The Defiler had sworn to end Durin's line and this was the first time so many of them had ventured out together. Five males, the king himself and both his heirs. Two cousins who might take the throne if the direct line died out, no, that would be too much bait for anyone to resist. Especially since Thorin was the one to maim him. Azog's hatred for his line would be nothing to his loathing for Thorin himself. They could not be here when the Defiler arrived. 

Thorin backed up, still crouching, until he felt Nori's jacket under his fingers. The thief cut his arms loose, although Thorin kept them stretched behind his back. "How many?" he signed, trusting Nori to see. Six kicks against his boot told him that over half the company was already free. Nori would be able to get to all of them except Dori and Bombur who were a little ways ahead of the group. They just needed a distraction to act. 

"My lord," the scabby goblin whined again. "One of them had the Cleaver!! It bit us deep as it did of old."

"You brought the Goblin Cleaver into my halls?" the king bellowed, heaving himself up from his throne and grabbing up a huge club. 

"I don't think he's going to wait for company anymore," Balin said tensing to dodge. 

"He doesn't seem to like my sword," Thorin answered, eyes darting around to find a safe escape route. 

"It is the sword the cut a thousand necks!" The great goblin swung his club, knocking dozens of his own people off the platform. "Kill them! Stab them! Cut off his head!" he shouted, whipping the goblins into a frenzy. They started to beat at the company with whatever was in their hands or with their claws if they had no weapons. 

Thorin threw himself toward the pile of weapons, but went down under three enraged goblins. He could hear Dwalin roaring somewhere to his right as he fended off attacks as best he could. The three goblins swarmed over him, pinning his arms down as a fourth pulled out a jagged bone blade and readied to stab him. Thorin strained against his captors, but he had no leverage to work with. Just before the knife plunged down, a clap of thunder sounded and a searing white light swept through the cavern followed by a shockwave that toppled everyone over. 

Although his vision was spotted black, Thorin took advantage of the confusion to scrabble toward the weapons again. Orchirst slid into his hand as he heard a most welcome voice shout, "Take up arms and fight! FIGHT!" Gandalf had found them. 

 

Their exit from the goblin tunnels was never after entirely clear in Thorin's mind. Flashes of the fight stood out; Ori swining Dwalin's war hammer with ease, using a ladder as a battering ram against a cluster of goblins, Gandalf gutting the great goblin like a pig. That was his favorite. Although, having the corpse land on them and send them all sliding into the darkness was not one of the best moments of his life. But it did get them to the exit to the tunnels than running would have. They burst out into the sun on the far side of the Misty Mountains and all stood gasping clean air into their lungs. 

"Did everyone make it out alright? Are there any injuries?" he asked, looking over each dwarf.

"No, I think we mostly came out alright," Balin said, wiping his sword off on some grass. 

"We're fine, uncle," Fili spoke for hiself and his brother. 

"We're all still walking, at any rate," Oin said, looking mournfully at his flattened ear trumpet. 

Thorin started to relax as a horrible thought struck him. He frantically looked at everyone again, twelve dwarrow and one wizard. He spoke at the same time as Gandalf, "Where is Bilbo?"

"Where is Master Baggins?"

 

 

*beardless orc dung (according to wattpad)r


	9. Chapter 9 - Through the Mountains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Company has made it out of the Goblin tunnels only to realize that they are without their smallest member. Where, after all, IS Bilbo?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone. Thank you again for all the kudos and comments. And especially thank you for pointing out when I've messed things up. I haven't gotten to fix everything from the last chapter yet, but I really appreciate it. I still don't have a beta for this, so if anyone is interested, please let me know.
> 
> Now, onto the oliphant in the room. I've been gone for a bit. A couple of things are going on. A) I reached the end of what I had already written. B) I had issues with my internet. It was down at the house for almost a week. Delightful! And C) I had a major yet subtle depressive episode. I only realized what was going on after a couple of weeks where I couldn't even really read books. So, that pretty much killed my momentum for a while. But, hopefully things are all sorted now.
> 
> This is a slightly short chapter, but it bridges to the next flurry of action. I'm still working on the side story of Fili, Kili, and the twins in Rivendel, and at some point I'll start at least a few of these chapters from Bilbo's perspective. 
> 
> For anyone who is curious, the site I've been using to write on is called 4thewords. It's a little writing RPG. You have a character and fight monsters by making a certain word count in a certain time limit. There are loot drops and equipment and all sorts of nifty stuff. It's gives you a month's free trial and then after that it's a subscription service along the lines of most in-game apps. You buy crystals and then can use those to get time or special gear. I find it useful enough that I invested in a few months. We'll see if it keeps me working by the time my current subscription expires.

"Where is Bilbo?" Thorin and Gandalf said at once. 

Thorin's head whipped around, trying to find the cat. They couldn't possibly have lost him. He was always on someone's shoulder or inside a coat. But as Thorin's eyes moved from dwarf to dwarf and saw empty hands, flat coats, and unburdened shoulders his hopes began to fade. "Who saw him last? He was beside me before we fell."

"I caught him while we tumbled," Bombur said. "But I lost him when we landed."

"He brushed past my ankles when I was lining up my first shot," Kili volunteered. 

"Anyone else?" Thorin asked, but none of the others had anything to add. 

"So, we lost him as we were fighting the goblins?" Fili asked. "There's no way he could have made it through that whole fight on his own." 

Thorin's heart clenched as he heard the tears in his nephew's voice. He looked back toward the entrance to the mountain contemplating how foolish going back in after a cat would really be. "Thorin," Balin said softly, putting a hand on his king's shoulder. 

"I know, Balin. It would be suicide." But by Durin he wanted to try. He couldn't stand the thought of the tiny animal lost inside that foul warren. If he was still alive he must be so frightened. 

"We can give him a little more time though, right?" Ori asked in a very small voice. "Mr. Bilbo is smart." The young dwarf's hands were twisted up in his soft scarf until his knuckles were white. 

"Aye, lad. Blibo is smart," Dori said, putting a strong hand on his brother's shoulder. "He'll be golden." Thorin knew the older dwarf didn't believe what he was saying anymore than the rest of them did. But they were all going to pretend for a few more minutes. The sun was still a few hours from setting. The goblins wouldn't venture out after them until dusk at least. 

"Of course we wait," Gandalf said, thumping his staff down onto the turf as though that could keep anyone from taking a step away from the cave. All thirteen dwarrow had their eyes fixed on the cave as though they could pull Bilbo out of the darkness by an act of sheer will. They were all barely breathing, frightened they would miss the first indication that the hobbit had made it safely through the mountain. But the moments stretched out in a silence that slowly suffocated their hope. 

Surprisingly Bifur was the first one to break, shouting wordlessly and trying to run back into the tunnel. Bofur ran after him and tackled his cousin, bringing him down a few feet away from the entrance. "Bifur, no. We can't. I know. I know. But we can't." The two cousins clung to each other tightly, holding back tears. 

"Everyone should eat something if they can," Thorin said, throat already feeling too dry to swallow. Fili looked at him incredulously. 

"How could we eat?"

"It does no one, including Bilbo any good for us to be too weak to fight if we need to. I know none of us are hungry, but chew some jerky or some of that elven bread, anything to keep our energy up." Thorin rummaged in his pack and pulled out one of the leaf-wrapped packets of lembas. He broke off a small piece and shoved it in his mouth, chewing as though the bread were goblin bones he could grind between his teeth. 

His nephew stared at him for another moment before pulling some jerky out of his own pack. Slowly, everyone else except Gandalf followed suit. Thorin wasn't sure any of them really registered what they put in their mouths. All of their attention was still focused on the cave mouth. Which is why, when a very small, "Murp?" came from behind them they all, to a dwarf, jumped and knocked into each other in their haste to turn around. 

"Bilbo!" Kili and Fili called together and tried to rush for the small cat. But they were knocked over by Bifur who, in turn, was blocked by Gandalf. The Istari knelt down and held his hands out to the hobbit. Bilbo took a wobbling step forward and collapsed into the large, wrinkled hands. 

Thorin felt like one of the guardian statues of Erebor, stiff stone with the weight of a mountain holding him back. His eyes greedily roamed over what he could see of the hobbit's body, which amounted to a paw and a gently flicking tail. They looked... they looked like a paw and a tail! He couldn't tell anything from that. He finally broke out of the frozen feeling and stumbled toward the wizard. 

"What is it that you have there?' Gandalf asked, one hand stroking the orange fur while the other arm cradled the hobbit's body. Thorin came around the crouched wizard and looked down into his lap. Master Baggins seemed to be holding something in his mouth. A glint of gold showed between his teeth. Gandalf reached out for it, but the hobbit let out a low growl. "I am not trying to steal it from you, you ridiculous creature. But you shouldn't hold things that small in your mouth. You might accidentally swallow them."

But Bilbo growled again and thrashed weakly, trying to keep his head away from the wizard's searching fingers. "Tharkun, I don't know..." Thorin broke off, not sure what he wanted to say, but hating to see Bilbo in distress. The cat's head turned toward him as he spoke. 

"Mrow!" he said, firmly around the object clamped in his teeth. 

"You want Thorin to have it?" Gandalf lifted the hand cupping Bilbo up toward the dwarf. 

"I... If you're sure?" Thorin knelt and reached his own hand out toward the small head. Bilbo unclenched his jaws and a small gold ring fell from them into Thorin's hand. They all watched as the ring changed from the size to go around a cat's paw to the right size for Thorin's finger. "Did you want me to wear it?"

"MROW!" Bilbo shot up, hissing and swiping at Thorin's hand. The dwarf lunged back to avoid the strike and landed on his bum on the grass. His hand instinctively closed around the ring, keeping it from dropping. 

"So, that's a no on wearing it then?" he asked bemused from his seat on the greensward. 

"Perhaps I should-" Gandalf started, but Bilbo hissed again. 

"Very well. You do not want Thorin to wear the ring?" Bilbo purred. 

"You do not want me to touch the ring at all?" Another purr. 

"And any of the rest of the company holding it?" Hiss. 

"I see. There is something wrong with the ring?" Bilbo squeezed his eyes shut and nuzzled into Gandalf's thumb. 

"It's clear enough it's a magic ring," Dori said, shouldering his way into the conversation. "And we dwarrow have some experience with those." They all shared a dark look, remembering the seven rings that had come to the dwarrow lords. Thror had borne the last of the rings into Azanulbizar where it was lost. 

"Aye, it is," Balin joined in. "Thorin, a thing like that is best wrapped up and stowed away safe. Uncanny rings are rarely safe."

Thorin heard his adviser, but distantly. There was something in the gleam of gold on his palm. It was as though fire flickered behind him, bringing out the shine of the metal, sparking reflections that dazzled his eyes. He only broke away from it when three sharp lines stung across his left hand where it rested on his knee. This time, he did drop the ring as he jumped, cradling the wounded hand to his breast. 

Once it was no longer touching his skin, the ring seemed to lose the hypnotizing shine. "There is something very wrong with that ring," Thorin said in a cracked voice. He felt shaken to his core. The ring... For just a moment, the gold of the ring had been the only thing in the world that mattered. He wanted to hold it and turn it so it could get the best light. He wanted to hide it away so no one else would ever see it and yet he wanted to wear it so all would know that it was his. He had never felt closer to his grandfather than in that moment. He suddenly understood how it could be that Thror had to be dragged from the treasury even as Smaug dug his way into the mountain. 

"Hmmm." Gandalf stared at the small golden circle on the grass. "Then it is best that none of us carry it too closely. Master Baggins?" He asked. Bilbo gave a weak purr. "Very well then." 

Gandalf transfered Bilbo to Bofur's hands and then knelt beside the ring. He produced, from somewhere in his robes, a large piece of white silk. "King Thorin, perhaps you should move back a bit?"

Thorin nodded and pulled himself to his feet. He stepped back until he was next to the solid bulk of Dwalin. "What was it like?" his friend asked. 

"I think I understand how Thror was lost now," Thorin said, his voice low and slightly shaky. "If the treasury was one tenth as beautiful as that ring seemed..." he trailed off, remembering his grandfather more kindly now than he ever had. 

"It can't have been that powerful if a love tap from a scrap of a kitten could knock you out of it," Dwalin teased. 

"I'll have you know his claws are bloody sharp. You know the thinnest cuts always sting the worst," Thorin said, elbowing his guard in the side. Long practice let him find one of the few unarmored spots on Dwalin's body. Roughhousing with his friend helped keep him distracted as the wizard swathed the ring into a lumpy bundle of white silk. The fabric was wrapped around and around, this way and that, until there was not the least chance that any of them could touch the bare metal of the ring. 

"Thorin, you had best carry this. Bilbo seems insistent that none of the rest of us hold on to it." There was a slight peevishness to his voice that Thorin found quite amusing. The Grey Wizard, bested by a two pound kitten. Reluctantly, Thorin held out his hand and took the packet of silk. It seemed heavier than its contents could account for, but he nevertheless tucked it safely inside his coat. Although, even with the silk swaddling it, he made sure to keep the package on the outside of his shirt. 

"What should we do now that we have Mr. Bilbo back?" Ori asked diffidently. "Only, I don't know how long it will be until it gets dark."

"The lad has a point," Balin said. "We should put as much distance between ourselves and these caves as we can before the goblins come looking for revenge." Everyone made ready to set out again, picking up and securing whatever gear they might have shaken loose to go search for Bilbo. 

"We should be able to make decent time," Gloin said, looking toward the trees a bit further down the mountain side. 

"Aye, it's a nice afternoon for a stroll in the forest," Nori said. "The goblins will just add some excitement." As if to add his own excitement to their trip, Nori let a gold coin dance across his knuckles before flipping it back to the astonished redhead. "Good on you for not losing that in the caves. We may need it down the road a bit." He strolled off before the outraged Gloin could think what to say. Thorin just shook his head at their antics. That dwarf would get himself killed one of these days. But, not today.

"Move out," he ordered. "I want as many miles as we can get between us and this cursed mountain." 

The company fell into step willingly although all of them had small wounds that could use tending. Thorin glanced around and couldn't fully relax until he saw Bilbo riding on Bifur's shoulder, nestled into the toy maker's badgery hair. That was fine, the king told himself. It wasn't as though Bilbo belonged to him. He could ride with anyone he pleased. But he nevertheless found himself shooting little glances over his shoulder to check on the two of them from time to time. Just to be sure.


End file.
